Avis
by svvampy
Summary: Seventh year Cora Danes is eager to become an Auror. Seventh year Regulus Black is eager to become a Death Eater. Will the intertwining paths of righteous Cora and prideful Regulus change the fate of the Dark Lord and the wizarding world?
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I don't own anything you recognize.

"RAVENCLAW!"

The first year seated beneath the Sorting Hat smiled widely as cheers erupted from the Ravenclaw table. He hopped down as soon as the hat was lifted from his head, hurrying towards the only people in the overwhelming Great Hall he could now somewhat feel familiar with. He joined the other first years who had been sorted into Ravenclaw huddled together near the end of the long table, despite the many open spaces at the benches.

Cora Danes saw herself in the short, scurrying children. She was beginning her last year at Hogwarts tonight, but it didn't seem all too long ago that she was standing in that gaggle of eleven year olds, knees shaking and fingers twisting together. The Sorting Hat had yelled Ravenclaw the moment its worn fabric had touched her head.

"Exciting, isn't it?" said Adair Minston from behind Cora's turned back. "I almost wish I was one of 'em."

"Really?" asked Cora, twisting around to look at her friend directly. "I don't know if I could truly do another seven years."

Adair rested her chin on her hand. "I wouldn't leave if I didn't have to." She idly fidgeted with a bit of fabric on her robe.

Cora didn't reply. She loved Hogwarts, of course, but the wizarding world was much larger than these castle walls. The dark forces were gaining strength, and the actually level-headed wizards and witches, such as herself, would be needed in the years to come. She couldn't stay here, where things were simple. She watched a young girl rush to the Gryffindor table. She had such a journey ahead of her.

Cora was a dark-haired girl, with skin darkened from her childhood spent outdoors in the sun. Tonight, and like always, her hair was worn in its loose curls, but with a sizable braid adorning her head like a diadem. She wore a thin, golden band around her ring finger. It had been a gift from her parents the Christmas of her second year, and it glinted still tonight in the candlelight of the Great Hall.

"Laramie Syville!" A boy with such pronounced freckles that they could be seen from Cora's seat approached the Sorting Hat. It's flaking brim flopped down over his forehead, with its folded face scrunching in thought.

"Loyalty, yes…" it said. "Very loyal. However… clever. Yes, very clever... SLYTHERIN!"

The table cloaked in green erupted in obnoxious cheers. Cora glanced over with the iciest glare she could muster. A group of seventh year boys stood and welcomed the little boy with loud whoops and yells. She rolled her eyes, hoping they saw.

The leader of this hardly tolerable pack of Slytherin elites had an arm around the boy as they sat. Regulus Black. Cora had already, reluctantly, met the probable felon, as he was a fellow member of the Slug Club. He was insufferable, naturally, and she was sure she wouldn't see the last of him at Hogwarts. If she became an Auror like she hoped, she would most certainly meet up with him in some form of battle. He would be on the opposing side, of course.

The last child had been sorted. Cora realized, with a twinge of panic, that she had forgotten to properly take in the last sorting she would ever witness. Pushing down this somewhat depressing thought, she turned to the feast now before her and her housemates.

"Lots of Ravenclaws sorted tonight," said Adair, digging her spoon into a hunk of sheppard's pie.

Cora nodded before she realized Adair wasn't looking. "Yeah, there sure was," she agreed vocally. She thought to herself that the Ravenclaws were only a large percentage of the rather small number of first years themselves. Many students had opted to stay home due to the impending danger and instability in the wizarding world. "Hey, where's Godfrey?" she asked.

Godfrey Thomas was Cora's male prefect counterpart. She liked him well enough, despite his oddities. He was named for Godric Gryffindor, seeing as his parents had both been extremely proud members of the house. Cora was mildly sure that the sole reason he had worked to become prefect was to try and assuage some of the shame he had felt after being sorted into Ravenclaw.

"Down here, Cora!" said a chipper voice somewhere among the heads bobbing at the table. One of these heads belonged to Godfrey, who leaned forward as Cora leaned back, then quickly leaned back again to meet her eye. "Great group of first years, I'd say."

"Yes, I'd say so," agreed Cora. "I just wanted to congratulate you on Head Boy."

Godfrey gave a feigned bashful smile, though polite. "Thank you, truly, Cora," he said. "It's just been a dream of mine." In other students, these words would come off as sarcastic. In Godfrey, they were the sincerest words ever uttered.

"Mr. Pathe! Please, stay with the group!" shouted Cora at a wandering first year. "You'll serve as a lovely plaything for Peeves if you're not careful." The group of first years she was leading glanced at each other, but any nervousness was overtaken with excited smiles left over from the night's festivities.

"Miss Danes, do we really have to solve a riddle every time we need to get in the dormitory?" asked a young girl at Cora's side as the group climbed the spiral staircase.

"I promise you won't have any trouble with them," said Cora. As she said this, she was reminded of the night during her first year that she had found herself locked out of the dormitory for a good four hours after curfew due to a particularly stumping puzzle. "Truly, you'll be just fine."

She solved the riddle asked by the eagle knocker for the group this time, and they were led into the common room of the tower. She hated those riddles, in all truthfulness. She found them extremely pointless and pretentious. What was wrong with the simple passwords used by the other houses? The riddles were such a bother to her. If any of the houses were to use the only annoyingly and pompously different form of entrance to their dormitories, it should have been Slytherin. She was reminded again of Regulus Black and his slimy gang.

"Having a good first night, are we?" asked Godfrey with such cheer in his voice one could possibly think him acerbic once the group was gathered in the common room.

A few of the first years gave some form of applause, or at least agreement, while most remained timid and quiet. Godfrey was far from discouraged.

"Your actual dormitories can be located beside the statue of our own dear Rowena," he said. "Boys and girls will be separated."

His instructional speech continued, but the first years were growing comfortable and, therefore, restless. Their gazes turned upwards to the velvet dome ceiling with its twinkling stars, similar to those in the Great Hall. Cora sometimes thought the design of the ceiling was somewhat unoriginal given the Great Hall's claim on the design.

"Last first night," said Adair once the girls were in their usual beds.

"Everything you've said this evening has made me sad," scolded Cora. "I shouldn't feel any form of remorse, really. All I've wanted to do is get into the real wizarding world."

"Cora, please. Of course you should be a little sad. I'm feeling well depressed," said Adair, pulling her covers up to her cheek.

Cora smiled at her friend. "Well then, you should stop making all those absolutely dreary comments if you'd like to cheer up. Goodnight, Adair."

Adair was right, of course, about it being their last first night. The canopy above Cora became clearer as her eyes adjusted to the familiar darkness. This view hadn't changed at all since her first first night; only she had. If she really focused, she could make herself believe she was 11 as she looked at the curtains, canopy, and bed posts that had surrounded her for so many nights over the past six years, for it all looked just as it had on that first night in the early 70s. Of course she would miss it, once she was gone.

It was far below Cora's bed that Regulus Black was lounging on one of the fine couches in the Slytherin common room. His cloak was draped across the couch arm beside him, and his tie draped similarly around his neck. He mindlessly rubbed his thumb and forefinger together as he stared at a point on the floor. "Several mudbloods in this year's new batch," he said. "You'd think they'd stay behind like so many of them are. Afraid of the Dark Lord's revolution."

A clammy creature of a boy nodded vigorously beside him. "A right shame, that's what it is," he said. "Just a right shame."

"Allen, it's not just a right shame. It's disgraceful," said Regulus. "Slytherin, of all the houses, shouldn't be polluted like this."

Allen agreed again. "There's just not much to be done, though, is there?"

Regulus gave a sickly grin. "Well, maybe not here in this common room," he said. "There's far more going on beyond these castle walls, you know. The Dark Lord, he's gaining traction, Allen."

Allen grew visibly nervous at the mention of the Dark Lord. "That-that's what they say," he said, still nodding.

Regulus turned towards his fellow seventh year, (although the boy seemed much younger.) "They're not rumors, Allen. The pureblood wizarding community will finally rise up. We could be rid of the ignorant muggles, and have some true free reign. Imagine." He leaned back in blissful thought. "This Dark Rebellion is alive and well, Allen."

"And what about those rumors of a resistance? One that's teamed with the ministry?" asked Allen. He shifted in the armchair he sat in. The leather squeaked beneath him.

Regulus clasped his fingers together and leaned forward intently. "Something like that is insignificant. Nothing can match the power, the passion, of the Dark Lord. This movement he has started is a real revolution against the rise of muggles. The wizarding world belongs to purebloods, and we, led by Voldemort, we're claiming it back." His parents would be so deeply pleased at this heroic display.

Neither spoke for a moment. Then Allen grinned. "You know, you're going to do such great things, Regulus."

The older boy laughed, then sighed. "Well, first, I'm going to get some sleep." He pushed himself up from the couch, his shadow lengthening across the stone floor in the orange, flickering firelight. Great things, he thought as he made the trek to his usual bed. Whatever those things those may be, Voldemort is my gateway.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: I don't own anything you recognize.

It was too cold to be studying outside, but Cora had already taken the time to set her spot up on the grass, and she was too stubborn to move. The tights she wore under her Ravenclaw uniform skirt were thin enough to make her chilly, but she kept telling herself that they served as a suitable cover.

Ancient Runes. Why she had decided to take this class, she didn't know. She was managing, as she always did, but it was the first time she had _really_ felt she was struggling in a class. The grass itched beneath her legs and she angrily shifted positions.

She heard rustling behind her. Twisting around, she saw a leg swing over the ledge of a window in the courtyard walkway. Regulus Black clambered over the stone wall, his collar popped over the edges of his Slytherin sweater. His narrowed eyes flicked over hers as he coolly shifted a book from the crook of his elbow to his hand, holding it by the spine.

Cora questioned why he couldn't walk a few meters farther to the actual opening into the courtyard.

He strode across the green, slipping his free hand into his pocket only to take it out again and plop himself down onto the grass. He squinted his eyes in the overcast sunlight, and they flicked over Cora's once again before he opened the book. He rested his forearms on his knees, which were spread a good distance from each other.

Annoying, thought Cora. She wasn't sure how. But it was.

She turned back down to her runes, but was uncomfortably aware of how silent the courtyard was with only them in it. Why, of all the students in Hogwarts, did Regulus Black have to be the sole other inhabitant of her study spot? The wind incessantly blew a corner of her page, which she pinned down with her thumb.

Regulus glanced up at her and thankfully didn't make awkward eye contact again. Not that it really mattered to him; she was insignificant to him. Cora Danes, a girl he'd always known and had in classes, but was of no importance. Yet he had to admit, he had been surprised when she'd shown up at the first Slug Club meeting last year. She must be intelligent, since she certainly wasn't chosen by Slughorn for her illustrious connections. She was a child of muggles.

She'd shown up to that first meeting in a pale pink shift dress, with her curls bigger than usual, both in width and volume. She'd remained quiet unless questioned by Slughorn, but her eyes had kept a close watch on every attendee. Regulus, on the other hand, had tried harder to stand out to the professor. He was sure to tell the story of his first quidditch game, when he'd rammed his broom straight into the Hufflepuff stand and come out the other side, Snitch in his clutch.

"O-ho-ho, my boy! You really do give those other seekers something to worry about, don't you?" said Slughorn, his chin shaking as he rocked back and forth with mirth.

"Well, I do try, sir," said Regulus with a charming smile.

"Let's see, we've got quite a few quidditch players with us," said Slughorn, his lips closing together over and over again like a fish as he glanced around the table. "Miss Danes, you don't play, do you?"

Cora glanced up from the toast she was prodding with her fork. "Oh, no, no, I don't," she said. "I find that I'd rather focus on my studies."

"Admirable! Admirable, indeed," said Slughorn, nodding resolutely.

Cora turned her gaze back to her toast. Regulus watched her. Why wasn't she making herself more noticed? She should be telling grand stories of her life's greatest accomplishments. Then again, maybe she didn't have any. His pureblood connections gave him many doorways to greatness, but with her mundane life back home in what he imagined to be a suburban semi-detached house on the outskirts of London, she probably didn't have much to tell. He turned his attention back to the professor with the certainty that Cora Danes would not be at the next meeting.

She walked into the next meeting wearing a black sleeveless dress and matching flats, slipping into her seat just as quietly and calmly as ever. And she hadn't disappeared since.

Yes, it must simply be her intelligence that keeps her in Slughorn's sights, thought Regulus as he looked up at her again across the courtyard. She was surrounded by her school books, after all. And she was spending her free time studying. (As was he, but he only had a single book with him, and he mainly came to the courtyard to get away from other classmates for at least an hour.)

She glanced back at him. She couldn't focus on her runes with that miscreant sitting so nearby. She hadn't minded him all that much up until sixth year. Until then he'd only annoyed her with his haughty confidence and pureblood superiority complex, but it was in the past year, really, that she realized he was an avid fan of the Dark Lord. Disgusting. That was what really made him horrid in her book.

He was fiddling with his wand, muttering something to himself. What was he reading? What was he trying to do? She put her book down, splayed open with the pages on the grass.

No. No. Better to just not pay him any attention. She picked the book up again.

"Agh, bloody…" said Regulus across the way.

She put her book down again, straightening up to look directly at him. She really shouldn't get involved. She really shouldn't. "What are you trying to do over there?" she asked. Oh, goodness gracious.

He looked up with his squinted eyes. "Practice charms," he said curtly.

"Which charm specifically?" she asked.

"Bird-conjuring," he replied.

Cora was quiet for a moment. "What trouble are you having with it?"

"Can't remember how to do it?" said Regulus, as if this was obvious.

Cora pursed her lips. She shouldn't have come over here in the first place. "Well, I'm very sorry about that," she said, picking her book up again.

They fell back into their silence, aside from the quiet mutterings of Regulus. He flipped through his book incessantly.

"Are you sure I can't help you with that?" asked Cora again.

"It's just that… I can't find the incantation in this bloody book," he said. "And I can't remember it in the first place."

Cora stood from her spot, not bothering to brush the loose blades of grass from her tights. "Can I see your book?" she asked once she was standing above him. As he looked up at her to hand over the book, she noticed that his eyes were much gentler than she'd imagined.

He watched as she flipped through the pages. Her fingers were very delicate, graceful, he noticed.

"I think I've found your problem," said Cora, handing the open book back down to Regulus. " _Avis_ should be on page 243. You're missing page 243."

Regulus snatched the book back to examine for himself. 242..245. Damn. He gave a cough. "Well, I'll write my parents and request a new copy," he said. "You know, the Blacks."

Cora gave a thin-lipped smile. There it was. "Yes," she said. "I'm aware." She started to turn away.

"Would you mind just...assisting me, a bit?" said Regulus.

Cora paused before turning back around. Regulus Black asking _her_ for help? A muggle-born? Must be a major first in his life.

She turned back to him, taking her own wand out. "The Bird-Conjuring Charm is _Avis_. Just...watch me." She pointed her wand slightly upwards, away from the boy. " _Avis_ ," she said, the word transforming her already mellow voice into that of an ethereal being from the era of Merlin.

A wispy feather fell from the tip of her wand. And then, a flock of white doves flew from where the feather had just emerged. They flapped and fluttered in a whirlwind, first in a collective group before scattering about the courtyard like birds do.

She turned to Regulus. "Now you try," she said.

"Oy, Reg!" shouted a voice from the walkway. "What are you doing with that mudblood?" Laughter.

Regulus stood up with his book in hand and laughed. "Go on, Barty!" he shouted. He turned away from Cora, who was watching the Slytherin boys laughing in the walkway with contempt and hurt. Regulus strode towards them without a word to the girl.

And to think that for a moment, she had thought that, just maybe, there was a gentler side to the boy.

The Great Hall was sparsely filled with students by the time Cora and Adair went to eat. The quiet hum of student conversations proved enough background noise for them to converse comfortably.

"I swear, if Gryffindor doesn't beat Slytherin at the next game, I will absolutely lob myself into the Great Lake," said Adair.

"Oh, it's not as if those boys haven't called me the m-word before," said Cora.

"That does _not_ validate them saying it again!" said Adair. Her eyes darkened. "Oh, lovely. Look who's here."

Cora followed Adair's gaze to a corner of the Slytherin table. Regulus sat amongst his probable-Death Eater cronies, all talking secretly in a huddle. Regulus's collar was popped just as it had been in the courtyard.

"I bet they're discussing which one of them the Dark Lord likes best," said Adair, tearing a piece off of a cauldron cake and tossing it into her mouth.

Cora said nothing, watching the little group carefully. They were all kids. Just kids.

But then she remembered all the horrid moments of Regulus, from his annoying ego, to his outbursts of pureblood supremacy. She thought back to first year, to one of her earliest flying classes:

"UP!" shouted a mousey boy across from her. Allen Perwink was his name, she thought. He glared down at his immobile broom which just barely hovered above the dull green grass.

"Up," said a casual, silky voice. A thin, dark-haired boy to the right of Allen caught his broom effortlessly, tossing his leg over the side. Regulus Black was his name, she thought.

"How did you manage that, Regulus?" asked Allen with disbelief.

"Well, firstly, Allen, you have to have some sort of skill," said Regulus, not even looking up from his hands on the handle of his broom as he caressed it.

Allen laughed nervously at this snide insult, while Cora scowled.

"At least try to outperform these Ravenclaws," said Regulus, tossing his head towards the students detailed in blue, lined up across from him. He leaned a bit closer to the shorter boy, and muttered, "Mudbloods and blood traitors, the lot of them." It had been a comment just loud enough for nearby Ravenclaws, including Cora herself, to hear.

She hoped Gryffindor would beat Slytherin, too.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: I don't own anything you recognize.

Regulus slipped his emerald cloak over his shoulders, hooking it across to his chest. It was a foggy day, the damp greyness hovering above the dewy grass in the early morning and lingering on into the afternoon. Aside from this possible obstruction, his other teammates seemed to be worried in general about the upcoming game. He, on the other hand, was quite calm. He usually was before his quidditch matches. He was a skilled player.

He was Seeker, of course. And being Seeker was a separate game from the rest of the team. The others were playing their own game with their Quaffles and Bludgers, while Regulus was up above them, or down below them, in his own match with a tiny, fluttering speck of gold.

"Y'ready?" asked a voice from behind. Lucinda Talkalot, Slytherin team Captain, stood leaning against the wall.

Regulus turned to her, broom in hand. "Of course," he replied, smiling. "And Luc, don't worry. You _know_ we'll be fine." They began to walk out together.

"No, I _don't_ know that," replied Lucinda, readjusting the thick braid her blonde hair was situated in.

"You just watch the hoops, and I'll take care of the rest," said Regulus. "The snitch is the game, after all."

The crowd could already be heard from the stands surrounding the pitch. All the houses would be present, and Regulus was already sure that the three aside from Slytherin would be cheering on Gryffindor. He didn't mind. Too much cheering and hollering in his name would be distracting.

Cora took a seat in between Adair and Edmund Walters, a dark-skinned seventh year Ravenclaw. The pitch was still empty, but she hadn't seen a single face missing in the stands.

"Oh, look at them in the Slytherin stands, that vile lot," said Cora. "How can they really support a team of Dark Lord worshippers, truly?"

"They're all probably worshippers, themselves," said Edmund.

"Jolie Bennett, she's one that I just pity," said Adair. "A perfectly nice girl with muggle parents, sorted into Slytherin. In times like these, who could she possibly have as a friend in her own house? The poor lass."

The Slytherin stand was flushed with emerald green and silver. The benches weren't even visible underneath the packed-in students, all of them violently twirling their flags and banners about, and cheering on to an empty pitch.

All of the stands erupted into cheers when the opposing teams came into view, and each player flew up on their broom until level with the hoops. Regulus was close enough to Cora for her to see the detailing of his embellished cloak and the smug confidence on his face. He turned his head and did a passover of the stands beside him, his eyes flicking over Cora for hardly a second.

"TAKE 'EM DOWN, GRYFFINDOR!" shrieked Adair without warning.

Regulus looked back in their direction. "I'll apologize in advance for your crushed hopes," he shouted over the din. His eyes flicked over Cora again.

"YOU'RE NOTHING MORE THAN A-," began Adair, before both Edmund and Cora grabbed her.

"Adair!" hissed Cora.

"Don't sink to his level!" said Edmund. "You'll get yourself killed, for all we know."

Regulus was looking back towards the ranks of Gryffindor players now, all hovering in file, waiting for the game to begin. He smiled. He would be sure this game was a short one.

The referee below threw the four balls into the air. The Bludgers flew off on their own, and the Snitch zipped off, a tiny glint of light in the foggy haze. McKenna Larkin, a Gryffindor Chaser, grabbed the Quaffle out of the air, and the game was on.

Regulus took off in pursuit of the Snitch, followed closely by Gryffindor Seeker Alexander Hornby. Their brooms whirred by, lifting up above the other players and practically disappearing in the fog.

Cora watched the Quaffle at first. It was thrown from McKenna Larkin to Baisie Jordan. Baisie threw the ball towards the Slytherin hoops, but it was hit by the back of Keeper Lucinda's broom, sending it back into play. However, after watching this squabble for a while, Cora couldn't quite keep her eyes from glancing upwards into the fog. Regulus and Hornby weren't visible.

Although Cora couldn't see him, Regulus was currently hovering still. His eyes were searching through the grey for any glint of gold. Hornby was doing the same, several meters over. The Snitch had seemingly disappeared, and they weren't sure whether to rise higher or closer to the pitch.

Then he saw it. A flash of gold rushing by just below Hornby. The Gryffindor Seeker's eyes were trained carefully to his side, missing the sight of the Snitch. Regulus leaned forward, zooming towards the ball which hovered, then zipped away.

Hornby saw Regulus's quick movement and followed suit. They rushed around the Hufflepuff stand, and reappeared to the spectators with cheers. The Snitch rose over the tall tower of the stand, causing Hornby to follow its upward path. Regulus, however, went around the back of the stand, meeting up with the Snitch as it came down the other side. Hornby found himself staring at the fluttering tail of Regulus's green cloak yet again.

Cora found herself leaning forward on the bench, her hands clenching the edge. _C'mon then, Alex. Get ahead of him._

The Seekers were coming towards the Ravenclaws now, their brooms following the curve of the pitch. Cora was so focused on this scene that she almost didn't see the Beater, Winston Jordan, hurtling towards her stand. His head was turned behind him until too late. The students around Cora screamed and tried to scatter for cover. Adair and Edmund flung themselves to the side, dragging Cora with them onto the hard, wooden steps. Winston crashed into the benches, and gasps rose up all across the pitch. Students from every house stood to better see the carnage.

Winston rose unsteadily from his snapped broom. Cora, too, rose from her spot atop Adair. She turned her head to see the Quaffle and players still in motion. She saw, too, what Winston had been ready to twist around and hit. A Bludger was racing towards the already-ravaged stand.

She lunged over to Winston, grabbing the club that had fallen at his feet. She whirled it around, knocking the Bludger with every ounce of strength she could find into the open air of the pitch.

"CORA!" screeched Adair, still on the ground beside the crumpled Edmund and clinging to a bench. "YOU SAVED US, OH MY GOODNESS! YOU SAVED US!"

Nothing of the such had yet registered in Cora's mind. Then, the collective gasps that rose for what was now the _third_ time pulled her gaze back to the pitch.

The Bludger that she had hit was now headed straight for Regulus Black. His eyes were focused intently ahead on the Snitch he was still pursuing. Hornby pulled back, seeing the impending danger of the hurtling Bludger.

It struck Regulus in the side, knocking him off his broom and sending him plunging to the green like a piece of parchment. He lay there crumpled, seemingly lifeless. Cora's heart plummeted just as he had moments before.

McGonagall, already standing, rushed from her spot. Slughorn followed her, his mouth blubbering in shock and fright. The game had momentarily ceased.

"Oh...Oh, bloody…" muttered Cora, feeling as though she was about to fall from the stands herself. She stepped over the wreckage of the benches, hurrying down to the pitch.

Regulus's chest and throat were tight with pain. He saw only a patchy, blurred view of the grey sky, and then concerned faces obscured his sight.

"Mr. Black, m'boy! Are you alright?" said the distant voice of Slughorn.

Regulus heard himself mutter something in reply.

"Get him to Madam Pomfrey!" ordered the shrill and commanding voice of McGonagall.

"Let me through; this was my fault!" shouted another voice.

Regulus turned his head, the grass itching his ear. Cora Danes was hurrying towards the scene, despite the several professors urging her to turn back. Her hair was frazzled, with her crowning braid practically falling apart on top of her head. Did she say this was her fault? What the bloody hell was she on about?

His glance turned back to the grey above him. And with that, it faded to black.

Before his eyes ever opened, he felt the softness of a pillow pressing into the nape of his neck.

"You'll need to drink this, Mr. Black," said a voice from above.

His eyes fluttered open. He was in the Hospital Wing, and Madam Pomfrey stood beside his bed with a dreadful looking bottle.

"Drink what?" was all he could think to ask, his voice meeker than he expected.

"Skele-gro," replied Madam Pomfrey. "I don't think you'll like me much afterwards."

That was encouraging. He turned his head to the bed beside him. Winston Jordan was awake, staring up at the ceiling above. Poor chap, whatever happened to him?

Then Regulus remembered. "The game," he said, turning back to the matron. "What was the ending score?"

"Hornby caught the Snitch before everything was stopped," said Madam Pomfrey frankly as she poured a cup of potion which was, concernedly, smoking.

Regulus pressed his head harder into his pillow. Damn the Gryffindors. They may have beaten his team today, but he had another team that would not be so easily defeated.

"Drink up," said Madam Pomfrey.

He took the steaming cup of potion, albeit reluctantly. "What will this do?" he asked, holding it a good distance from his nose.

"Heal your arm and four ribs," replied the matron.

He wouldn't be dealing with those injuries. He pressed the edge of the cup to his lips, letting the burning potion practically incinerate his tongue and throat. He held back a fit of coughs.

"You're next, Mr. Jordan," sang Madam Pomfrey as she rounded Regulus's bed towards that of the other injured boy.

Soft footsteps sounded from the doorway. "Are visits allowed?" asked a voice.

Madam Pomfrey gestured for the guest to enter.

Regulus propped his head up to better see. Cora Danes came towards his bed, her hands folded in front of her and her eyes solemn.

"Hello," she said.

"Hello," he said, somewhat incredulously.

"Listen, I didn't mean for this to happen _at all_. I was simply trying to protect the students around me from the Bludger, and obviously my aim wasn't the best," she said without further introduction. "Sincerely, I'm just...so sorry."

"What… what are you talking about?" asked Regulus, his face scrunching in disbelief.

Cora's face reddened. "The, uh, Bludger that hit you. That knocked you from your broom. It was the one that I hit away from the Ravenclaw stand, with…," she gestured towards Winston, who was currently choking and hacking from his dose of Skele-Gro. "With his club."

Regulus watched her for a moment, processing what she'd told him. He recalled the image of her running across the pitch, her hair resembling the frantic look in her eyes. Now she stood before him with her braid fixed and her curls smoothed. Her eyes were softer.

"I just... _Goodness_ , I feel awful," she said, shaking her head.

"You didn't mean to," said Regulus quietly.

She glanced up to meet his eyes. He looked so meek, she thought. So vulnerable and small, lying in that hospital bed with his thick, black hair pushed up against the pillow. "I know, but..," she said. She sighed. "How are you feeling?"

He tried to shrug, but winced. "I'll be fine," he said. "Madam Pomfrey's got me drinking firewhiskey mixed with venomous tentacula juice."

Cora let a laugh bubble out of her lips, looking down at her hands. "Skele-Gro, I'm guessing," she said. "You should be recuperated soon enough."

Regulus looked at his cast. "So, did you just come to apologize?" he asked.

"Yes, that was it, I suppose," she replied. "And to make sure I didn't cause too much damage."

He smiled, leaning back into his pillow. "Damage? To me?"

She smirked. "Oh, please," she said. They looked directly at each other now. "I really should go; I have a prefect meeting."

Regulus nodded.

Cora hesitated before turning away, wringing her hands as she left.

"Thank you, Cora," said Regulus.

"Of course," she said, stopping momentarily.

That was the first time he had called her by her name.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: I don't own anything you recognize.

The rest of November seemed to move quietly by. By Thursday of the second week, Regulus was out of the hospital wing and back in his classes. The Skele-Gro had worked marvelously, and he had consumed it eagerly despite its vile qualities.

"And of course, we're very glad for the return of Mr. Black," said Professor Austeria before his Divination class. "And very grateful for his quick recovery."

The other students mumbled agreement, some giving a light clap. Most of this agreement came from the Slytherins. Slytherin and Gryffindor were sharing class time in this period, and the Gryffindors didn't appear all too thrilled by the return of Regulus.

"Today, as I'm sure you can see by the contents of your tables, we will each be searching the smoke of a crystal ball to therefore search within _ourselves_ ," said Professor Austeria, his skinny ankles seeming to barely be holding him up, despite his lanky and gaunt form.

Regulus looked down at the crystal ball on the circular table before him. Swirling strokes of thick mist slowly churned behind the glass. What he was supposed to make of it, he had no idea. He didn't harbor a complete disbelief in the study of Divination; he couldn't see how the subject could have no merit and still be widely taught. But it was nearly Christmas and he still hadn't yet discovered something absolutely mind-altering about himself or his future, aside from a brief moment when he thought he had seen a raven in his tea leaves, which turned out to mostly be a stain on his cup.

"Regulus, since this is your first day back, why don't you share with us what you see within your crystal ball?" asked the professor.

Regulus shifted towards the ball. His eyes searched the smoke. "I'm not seeing anything, Professor," he said.

The professor furrowed his brow and hurried up to Regulus's table. "Look again, lad, look again," he said. "You cannot solely look upon the smoke; you must clear the fog within your own self."

Regulus turned back to the crystal ball. He truly tried to see something, but with Professor Austeria's labored breathing in his ear, he couldn't very well search his soul. The smoke continued to churn, but no images appeared. "There's nothing, Professor."

"There is _always_ something," said Professor Austeria. "Detach yourself from this room - mind and body - and _look_."

Regulus looked back into the smoke, forcing himself to forget about the students who were now beginning to turn his way. He stared at the churning waves, fixating his vision on one particular spot in the lavender haze. He felt himself beginning to relax wholly, his body taking on an almost floating sensation.

Then he saw it.

A skull formed in the mist, with a serpent slithering out from the jaw like a sickly tongue.

He lurched back in his seat, and Professor Austeria watched him eagerly. He couldn't tell the professor what he had seen, aside from the fact that the Divination professor was known for his support of mudbloods. "A bird," he lied. "I saw a bird."

Professor Austeria clapped his hands together. "Marvelous!" he said. "Please, please, look up this symbol. What is it telling you?"

Regulus skimmed through his textbook. "Birds in general represent ascension, or some form of good news," he said.

"Ah, but were they just birds in general? Think, think, were they specific types of birds?" challenged the professor.

Regulus felt his nostrils flare. Best to keep it simple. "No, they were very general birds. Nothing special."

"Very well, then," sighed Professor Austeria. "Well done, Mr. Black!" He hobbled up to another student.

Regulus pulled up the sleeves of his cloak and sweater to examine his forearm. It was bare, with his summer-tanned skin completely clear. It was just a few months ago, before the school year's start, that he'd been so close to finally receiving his mark of loyalty to the Dark Lord's cause.

His bedroom at 12 Grimmauld Place was on the fourth floor. He spent most of his time in this dark room, but was summoned to the study by the visit of his older cousin and her longtime beau.

"Reg," purred Bellatrix as he entered the library. "How has my dearest cousin's summer holiday been thus far?"

"Just lovely," said Regulus, smiling as he embraced the recent Hogwarts graduate. Her arms hovered above his back as they embraced.

"My dearest, you should inform your cousin as to why we have visited so unannounced," said Rodolphus, reaching out to the woman and caressing her back through her mass of black hair.

"So eager, Dolphy," said Bellatrix. She stroked his chest, leaning back into him before turning her head towards Regulus. "You've shown such devotion to the Dark Lord's cause, Regulus. You've made your dear and noble family _so_ proud." Her mouth remained open as she ran the tip of her tongue along the bottom of her front teeth.

"It's an honor to be a part of such a virtuous movement," said Regulus. No matter how close to the Dark Lord his cousin was, he couldn't help but watch with nausea as that disturbing tongue tickled her blackening teeth. She was psychotic, but, alas, she was going to make an incredible Death Eater.

"You're reaching an age where your devotion can be... _recognized_ ," continued Bellatrix. "And I know you like recognition, pet."

Regulus felt his heartbeat pick up speed. He hadn't even begun his last year of Hogwarts yet. Could his moment of official initiation into the Dark Lord's army be now? "I'm ready," he said.

His mother, Walburga Black, sauntered into the room. "So sorry for interrupting your conversation," she said in a purr similar to that of Bellatrix. "I was, however, wondering if the conversation was of any importance." She had surely been listening from the hall.

Bellatrix caressed Rodolphus all the same, even with an adult in the room. "Your son, Walburga. He's rising in status in the eyes of the Dark Lord."

Walburga smiled a similarly blackened smile. "Regulus...you are my pride and joy," she said. She wrapped her stubby arms around the boy.

The loud slam of the front door echoed into the library. The frantic pattering of little feet came after, followed by a panting Kreacher throwing himself into the room.

"The elf of Master Alphard Black is here," he croaked.

"Alphard!" shouted Walburga with indignation. She tore away from her embrace with her son, her wild eyes flashing towards the library doorway.

"Master Walburga," said a voice from the hall. In entered the gaunt little house elf of Regulus's Uncle Alphard, the man who had left Regulus's traitor of a brother a large chunk of his inheritance, all for betraying the Black family name.

"You filthy rat, how dare you enter this house unannounced!" shrieked Walburga.

"I come only with a letter," said the pitiful creature. "Addressed to Master Regulus Black."

"And why so late? All this time since Alphard finally dropped dead?" said Walburga, her voice still screeching. Bellatrix and Rodolphus watched the scene, still practically fondling each other without a care.

"I only just now found it," said the elf. "It came with instructions to be delivered by hand." His thin fingers held out a yellowed envelope.

Walburga reached out for it, but Regulus stepped in front of her. He bent down and took the envelope gingerly from the elf, his eyes far more gentle than his counterparts despite the betrayal of the elf's master. It wasn't the poor elf's fault, after all.

"Don't you dare read that traitor's words!" shrieked Walburga.

"Mother, we must know what he said," said Regulus.

"We'll return another day," said Bellatrix, her voice chilly. "Now is not your time, Regulus."

And with that, she and Rodolphus left. Alphard's elf was gone. Regulus wanted to rip the envelope in half.

Walburga watched him for moment with eyes so cold they had gone nearly black. "Regulus, what if you just _ruined_ your opportunity to fight alongside the Dark Lord?" she cried. "My one _good_ son, ruined by a DAMN LETTER!" She whipped her wand out.

Regulus was mildly used to these moments of fury in his mother. He ran from the library and to the stairs, flying up them as some sort of hex hit the wall of the landing. She would calm down, eventually.

He threw his door shut. " _Colloportus_ ," he said, aiming his wand at the lock, which locked with a loud click. His mother could simply use the counter curse that most learn in their first year at Hogwarts, but he couldn't be bothered about it. He sat on the edge of his bed and looked at the envelope in his hands.

And months later, it was still sitting unopened underneath his wardrobe.

He looked back down at his blank forearm. What he had seen in the smoke should've been on his arm, if it hadn't been for the letter from Alphard. Soon, he would have it. He would.

Away from the Divination classroom, down the turret of a staircase, and through the stone corridors, Cora was listening quietly to Professor Slughorn's lesson on Aconite. There would be no potion-making today, only listening. That was fine with her; she was tired from the night before. Adair had kept her awake through most of the night. Every time the poor girl had fallen asleep, she was bombarded with horrific nightmares about certain Slytherins, specifically the already graduated Bellatrix Black.

"Adair...Adair, _please,_ " hissed Cora in the night, watching as her friend writhed about, kicking the sheets.

Adair woke up with a start before bursting into tears. "Cora," she said in a whispered sob. "Cora, the Slytherins...they had us both. Bellatrix had me by my hair...Lestrange, he was keeping you in a corner, watching you just...writhe about after using the Cruciatus Curse on you."

"They're just nightmares," whispered Cora in reply. "Go on back to sleep. We're just fine. Safe in Ravenclaw tower." She wouldn't admit that the image of Rodolphus Lestrange's crazed eyes staring down at her was also replaying behind her eyelids.

Those students, such as Bellatrix and Rodolphus, were already gone from Hogwarts, regardless. But as she looked down at her scrawled potions notes, she grimaced. Not all of them were gone. There were always members of the esteemed House of Black in attendance at Hogwarts. Bellatrix Black had left, but Regulus Black remained.

She blinked quickly as her eyes blurred over. Surely she could make it through the last class of her day, and then she could get back to Ravenclaw Tower and throw herself across her bed.

"Don't you dare go up to your dormitory," said Adair once class was over and Cora began to turn back towards the place that meant sleep.

"Why on earth not?" whined Cora, stopping and twisting around towards her friend.

"Did you not promise Edmund and I that you'd study with us today?" asked Adair. Edmund, beside her, nodded.

"I made that promise two days ago, before I lost a night's worth of sleep," said Cora. "I'm sure you can study just fine on your own." She turned from them defiantly.

" _So_ stubborn," muttered Adair with a huff as she and Edmund continued on to the library.

Cora hurried away, not finding it within herself at the moment to care about the promise she'd broken to her friends. Beneath her eyelids, it felt like there were miniscule chunks of rock just sitting there, weighing down on her eyes. When she closed them, the feeling only intensified, joined by a somewhat cold sensation. Simply the idea of a pillow against her head made her insides flutter with anticipation.

"Oy!" said a voice from beside her.

She glanced beside her to see Barty Crouch Jr. leaned up against a column.

He smiled coyly. "Where's Little Miss Mudblood of to in such a hurry?" he hissed.

She set her jaw. "My dormitory," she said. "And don't even think about following me in; the password _is_ a test of intelligence, you know."

The younger boy laughed, but it was a sickening sound. "You're too confident for someone who tried to take out a pureblood with a Bludger." His tongue flicked out from his lips.

"I did _not_ try to 'take him out,' I didn't even see him coming," said Cora. "Now, goodbye, Barty." She began to walk away.

"Don't think there won't be some form of retaliation for what you did," shouted Barty after her. "You've already done enough just by coming to this school, you FILTHY MUDBLOOD!"

She held her head high, but his warning of retaliation gave her stomach a very distinct sensation of sinking.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: I don't own anything you recognize.

"Oh, don't tell me you wouldn't snog Sirius Black!" laughed Adair, her legs stretched out before her on the ground, and her arms behind her acting like pillars to hold her up.

"Remind me again why you two have to discuss this in front of me," said Edmund from his

spot atop a rock.

"Adair, Sirius Black was an egotistical should've-been-Slytherin with a head so inflated, I'm surprised he was able to walk upright," said Cora, earning a snort from Edmund.

The three were sat amongst the trees alongside a small section of the lake's shore. The sky was grey, and the water was black. For once, they weren't studying. Instead, they, or Adair and Cora, were having a highly intellectual and mentally stimulating conversation regarding the blokes they would or would not have a go at, specifically the recently graduated and famous Marauders.

"But he's _Sirius Black_ ," said Adair, wiggling her eyebrows at her friend.

"You say that like it's an asset," said Cora dryly.

"Oh, you don't really dislike him that much," said Adair.

Cora grinned. "No, I don't really dislike him that much," she admitted. "Remus was his friend, so there had to be something redeeming about the git."

"Ah, yes, Remus," said Edmund. "How your poor heart must yearn for him."

Cora leaned over from the stone she sat on and smacked his arm. "Remus was a dear friend. Nothing more."

"Yeah, I really felt that platonic bond when he tried to snog you in Honeydukes during fifth year," said Adair.

" _Oh_ my goodness," said Cora, throwing her head back. "He tripped and fell into me! I can't even believe you remember such an insignificant moment."

Adair and Edmund glanced at each other, both adorning smirks. "I don't think that's true in the slightest," said Adair.

Cora smiled and shook her head. "Well, he was the best out of those Marauders," she said.

"Not even James Potter?" asked Edmund. "Lily, now, she really turned him around, didn't

she?"

Adair nodded. "I'll truly cry if I think about Lily Evans and James Potter for too long," she said. "Lily brought out all of the good in that boy. They're absolute soulmates; I know it."

"They're involved in that Order," said Edmund, lowering his voice despite their solitude. "The Ministry's Order against the Dark Lord."

"All of the Marauders are, I assume," said Cora. "Will you two join?"

"I don't think so," said Adair. "I won't join the other side, that's for sure. I'm just not much

of a fighter, you know?"

Edmund nodded. "I'm with you. I'd rather support the Order from afar."

Cora mentally denounced her friends' stances. "Well, I'm going to join as soon as I can,"

she said. "Their cause is growing more and more important. You've seen the halls and classrooms; there's hardly anyone here. Everyone's either in hiding or already dead."

"I really wish you weren't so determined in your beliefs," said Adair. "You constantly have me fraught with worry."

"If no one ever fought for what they believed was right, nothing much would get done, now would it?" said Cora.

The other two were quiet for a moment before the lull was interrupted. Someone - multiple someones - were headed down the path towards the three Ravenclaws. Five Slytherins came through the trees and brush, emerging like a pack of wolves.

"You were right, Allen. She did come down this way," said Caius Jugston, who stood alongside Barty in the front of the group.

Cora stood first, followed by Adair and Edmund. "What do you want?" she asked, her hand ready to pull her wand out.

"Well, hello there, Miss Danes," said Jugston. "You and your little Ravenclaw friends enjoying yourselves, are we?"

"We were," said Adair.

"What're you lot up to? Just taking a stroll?" asked Cora, her jaw set.

Barty smiled. "Don't you know why we've come to visit you?" he asked. "We won't let you off so easily after bringing such shame to your superior." He stepped aside on the stony ground, revealing Regulus, who stood with his hands in his pockets.

Regulus, wearing a navy sweater over his dark trousers, barely looked up at Cora. His neck twitched as he eyed the ground before her feet.

"Are you all _still_ on that?" asked Cora with disbelief. "Do you really think that I have that much care within me for you insignificant gits that I would send Mr. Black here to the hospital wing? For what, a laugh?"

"Your words will not be so strong, soon," said Barty. "You just keep making yourself prey, don't you?" He laughed, and the others, aside from Regulus, joined in. "When a pureblood is targeted by a mudblood, well, that is a call to action." He pulled out his wand. The three others followed suit, but Regulus shifted his feet behind them.

"Oh, c'mon," said Edmund, laughing nervously.

" _Incarcerous!_ " shouted Barty. Thick ropes flung from his wand, wrapping themselves around Edmund and sending him to the ground in a crumpled heap.

A blast of fiery color flew from Cora's wand, which Barty quickly deflected with a flick of his own.

"Miss Minston, anything to say?" sang Jungston.

Adair narrowed her nervous eyes. "Yeah, quite a few things," she said.

" _Incendio!_ " shouted Jungston.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " shouted Adair quickly, deflecting the blast of flame and sending Jungston's gnarled wand flying.

Cora held her wand steady. "Just get out of here," she said. "You'll only end up shaming your precious last name further."

Barty's eyes darkened, and Jungston took a step forward despite his wandless hand. Allen and the other Slytherin crony beside him held their wands defensively. Regulus looked away.

" _Cruci-!_ " began to shout Barty, his eyes boring into Cora's.

"STOP!" yelled Regulus's sudden, deep voice. He threw himself at Barty, knocking his arm down. "That's too far, Barty," he growled.

Cora's eyes were wide. Adair took the chance she had and ducked behind her to tend to Edmund.

Regulus glanced at her, his dark, straggly hair falling onto his forehead. With his fingers digging into Barty's shoulder, he turned and began to walk away. The other boys threw Cora and Adair hateful looks before, despite their maddened eyes, following reluctantly.

Cora's stomach was dropping over and over again as she watched the sturdy footfalls of Regulus as he made his way back up the path. Most would assume that her frazzled disposition was due to her facing the Cruciatus Curse, which it partly was. But, in all truthfulness, she was shocked at Regulus's actions.

"Did Regulus Black just save us?" said Adair, who was still trying to untie Edmund.

"Yes," said Cora, eyes still on the cluster of darkly clad boys moving up the path.

Just before sunset, Cora decided to write a letter. She spread herself out on her bed, flat on her stomach. Before her she sat out, on a hard surface of textbooks, several sheets of parchment, ink, and a quill. She dipped the quill into the dark liquid, scraping off excess on the lip of her jar. She pressed the tip delicately to the parchment.

 _Dear Remus,_

 _Hogwarts is much quieter these days. I'm sure this change is partly due to the absence of the esteemed and infamous Marauders, but deep down I know that the reasons are much darker. The darkness can be felt within the castle walls, and the quidditch games against Slytherin feel more like good versus evil than ever before. I wish so much for you all to be back here, but I know you're up to very important things out in the real world. I've heard of the Order. I'm so eager to join. I love Hogwarts, and I'd be foolish to say I'm not as safe here as I'll ever be. But these times call for those willing to fight to rise up, and I'm desperate to do as you're doing. All I can do for now is practice spells. I do hope you'll write back. Also, tell Lily hello from me, and you might as well say the same to James, Sirius, and Peter._

 _Fondly,_

 _Cora_

Regulus sucked on the side of his hand. That damned owl, always pecking at him. The owlery was empty at least, and no one saw the attack. A droplet of blood was forming around the cut from the owl's beak.

"I wish you wouldn't be like that," muttered Regulus to his family owl. "You'd never peck Mother."

The owl would, however, peck Sirius. Sirius had always despised that bird and its sharp, hooked beak. Before he left, he would curse it, yelling obscenities at the top of his lungs with every time he was forced to dodge its swoops. He had a habit of reacting strongly to any wrong of anything to do with the Blacks.

Regulus's reddened fingers hurried to finish sealing his letter to his family, which now consisted of solely his mother and father. The letter had no depth to it, but Walburga would be enraged without hearing from her precious son. He would never question rebelling. The general scent of hay and bird feces made him hurry along faster.

Footsteps sounded, coming around the archway opening into the owlery. Regulus turned

and saw who he somehow _knew_ it would be.

"Oh," said Cora, who immediately scolded herself for letting such a noise of surprise slip from her mouth. She stopped in the archway and looked at him before heading to her owl.

Regulus watched her from behind for a moment. Her long curls were hanging against her back. She wore a black shift dress with daisies on it - probably a muggle-made dress. High knee socks adorned her legs. It was a standard look of 1970s muggle fashion, and it should have enraged him to see those blatantly muggle-socked legs traipsing about the halls of Hogwarts. But it didn't. Not a single bit.

"Listen," he began, his voice louder than he expected in the airy owlery. "About today-."

Cora spun around. "Oh, yes," she said breathily. "I meant to thank you."

Regulus paused. "Well, there's no need, really," he said. "It would've been incredibly

beneath Barty to curse you as he intended. I couldn't let him do that."

Cora nodded slowly. "Well, I would hope...I mean, I think you also stopped him for the sake of my friends and I."

Regulus paused again. "You have to realize that I don't go around _saving_ mu-," he said before stopping again. "You just shouldn't assume that."

She watched him from across the circle of the owlery. "I think I should," she said, before turning back to her owl.

She had to be the most defiant, yet interesting, human beings Regulus had ever met.

"Who are you writing to?" he asked after several moments of silence. He _really_ shouldn't encourage any further interaction between them.

Cora glanced behind her. She _really_ shouldn't even reply. "A friend," she said. After a moment, she added, "Remus Lupin."

Regulus, still facing his own owl, nodded slowly. "You're a friend of the Marauders, then?"

"Mostly Remus," she said. "I never got to know Peter very well. And James and Sirius, well, everyone knew the-." She stopped herself as she realized who she had just mentioned. Everyone knew about the tensions between Sirius and the rest of his Slytherin family members, specifically his brother.

"No, no, it's alright," said Regulus, smiling sickly down at his owl's talons. "I understand. You're not one of us, so, naturally, you prefer my brother. Most do," he said. "Just know that he's a filthy blood traitor." He twisted around now to face her.

She turned towards him, too. "Just because your brother is friends with witches and wizards whose parents happen to be muggles, halfbloods, or muggleborns does not mean he is a 'filthy blood traitor,'" she said.

"You wouldn't know," said Regulus. "Listen, I don't even know why I'm speaking with you." His owl flew from the window. He was mad at himself for allowing any lenient thoughts he'd had about Cora. She was a mudblood. How could he let himself forget that? His parents would be horrified at what kindness he had shown her.

Cora set her jaw as she watched him stride through the archway. "Whoever taught you that honor and valor can be found in the hatred of another person was wrong," she said. "It takes much more courage, and a certain kind of intelligence, to have compassion."

He stopped on the first step.

She came to the archway. "I really thought I saw some good in you, Regulus," she said. "And, in all truthfulness, I still don't think I was mistaken."

He watched her as she walked past him, her gaze passing over him before focusing on the stairs ahead.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: I don't own anything you recognize.

Spots of dull green were still visible amidst the thin clumps of snow on the ground. Cora pulled her gray jacket tighter around her, just the sight of the flakes making her feel a chill. A whole horde of students was waiting to embark on their journey to Hogsmeade - the last Hogsmeade weekend before Christmas.

"I've still got to buy something for my mum _and_ my dad," said Adair. "What would my dad possibly want from a wizarding store?" Her father was a muggle, and he very much remained separated from the wizarding world. It wasn't that he was against his wife and daughter's secondary world, but more that he was a tad fearful of it. (That wasn't such an abnormal feeling these days, however.)

"I'm sure he'd appreciate something from Honeydukes," said Edmund.

"Oh, yeah, my dad trying to wrangle a mad chocolate frog, or accidentally popping a bogey Bertie Bott's bean. I can picture that Christmas going just splendidly," said Adair.

Cora laughed. "Well, I have to buy for two muggles," she said. "I was planning on getting them each something from Tomes and Scrolls."

"Well, your parents like that sort of stuff, don't they. They're always up for learning about us wizards. They'd love a good book," said Adair.

"You speak of them like you've known them for years," said Edmund.

"I've met them once, haven't I?" said Adair defiantly.

The pack of students was moving. By the time they were dispersed amongst the thatched cottages of Hogsmeade, Adair was still reeling on the subject of her parents' gifts.

"Listen, why don't you come with me to Honeydukes while Cora goes into Tomes and Scrolls," suggested Edmund. "We can surely find something a bit tamer for your dad."

Adair agreed. "Good luck with your books, Cora," she said as she followed Edmund into the crowd of Hogwarts students.

Cora disappeared the other way, navigating towards the bookstore. She came upon a cottage whose shingles were lined and dusted with snow. She stepped aside in the doorway as another patron barreled out, her eyes on the shelves within through the two rounded windows on each side of the entrance. Her hand caught the door as it closed, and she stepped up into the store.

"Welcome to Tomes and Scrolls," said the gangly wizard behind the counter without glancing up. He was busy ringing up a stack of books for another student.

Cora smiled at him regardless of the fact that he wasn't even looking at her. The store was cold, and she pulled the pink, knit hat she wore down closer to her ears. Each shelf was packed with books that were supposedly new, but appeared to be from the depths of a medieval citadel's library, with their faded, leather covers and fraying pages. Cora, quite frankly, had no idea where to start looking for her parents' Christmas gifts.

It was near the back, in a tucked-away square of space formed by three shelves, where Cora found a book of interest for her mother. _A History of Muggle Culinary Quirks: A Chef's Arduous and Tear-Inducing Kitchen Life_ by Cicera Labbot. Cora's mother had always found the wizarding world's confusion towards muggle "quirks" incredibly amusing, and quite possibly something that made the whole society less intimidating. Cora flipped through the yellowed pages of the book.

" _It is with great care and precision that the muggle chef must laboriously slice each ingredient at separate times. There are several utensils used in this onerous task, but it is unknown if muggles utilize only the knife for chopping as wizards do. Given their more mundane ways of accomplishing simple jobs, some muggles may opt for a fork or spoon to slowly dig through each ingredient._ "

Cora had read enough to know that her mother would greatly enjoy this, and slipped the book under her arm. She began scanning the rest of the shelf for something for her father when a hissing voice caught her attention.

"Oh, he will be _so_ proud," it said quietly from the other side of the shelf she was searching.

"And Bellatrix did tell him that today was the day?" asked another voice, this one deeper.

"Oh yes, the Dark Lord knows," replied the hissing voice. "He knows what to expect."

A deep laugh bubbled from the other. "If he could just _see_ us, not just hear from the others of our deeds."

Cora's stomach dropped. She held her breath, pulling her hand away from the shelved books, but standing to listen.

"He will know, he will know," hissed the first voice. "Besides, his praise is not what we do this for. To carry out his wishes, his plan for the world, is why we _live_."

The second voice made a noise of agreement. "He'll be so pleased when he hears of our display," it said. "Oy, it's twenty 'till."

"We should go. The others will be waiting," said the first. The two shuffled from behind the shelf hiding Cora.

She inhaled quickly, pressing herself against the shelf behind her and watching as two figures emerged before her. Their heads were turned away from her, and she let out a shaky breath as they walked forward.

Jungston and Barty.

"What's wrong?" asked Edmund when Cora arrived beside him and Adair in the back of Honeydukes. Students filled the candy store, packing into the little space left from the stands of fizzing whizbees and the shelves of candy floss.

Cora frowned and shook her head. "Nothing," she said casually. No need to worry her friends as of now. She idly fiddled with a wrapper on a large lollipop candy.

"I've found some things that might be the least traumatizing for my dad," sighed Adair. "I know he'll try to enjoy them, at least."

"He'll love whatever you get him," said Cora with a smile.

"I've got us each a box of Bertie Bott's," said Edmund. "I thought we could each take ours home over holiday. We could write each other about what beans we get."

"Why wouldn't we just try them together, in person?" asked Adair.

"Well, I just thought it would be _fun_ ," said Edmund.

"I think it's a nice idea, Ed," said Cora encouragingly. Just feign contentedness and they'll be fine. "It'll give us a reason to write, too." She hugged her torso, tucking the books she'd ended up buying from Tomes and Scrolls under her arms.

Edmund and Adair went to purchase their things, and Cora stood aside, gazing out at the snowy street. Huddles of students passed by, all chattering excitedly. She realized that soon Hogsmeade weekends would be a thing of the past for her. She felt a swelling in her heart as she watched her peers wander about the thatched cottages, a sight she knew that she would miss very much. Every school year at Hogwarts had a way of feeling more like home than her parents' house.

A small gathering of students caught her eye, pulling her out of her reverie, and reminding her again of the fear she had felt in Tomes and Scrolls. Jungston and Barty scurried along with a few other Slytherins, all donning winter hats and scarves, mostly of darker colors. They were headed towards the Three Broomsticks.

"Mind if we stop into the Three Broomsticks for a bit? Maybe a butterbeer?" suggested Cora as Edmund and Adair came to her with their candies in hand.

They agreed, oblivious to Cora's nervous reasons. They left the crowd in Honeydukes, and crossed, at Cora's hurried pace, to the pub. A loud hum of voices within could be heard from the street.

Cora entered right in front of Edmund and Adair, her eyes searching for the Slytherins. Their huddled forms were conversing secretly at a table near the back.

Adair went around Cora to a table near the front, sitting down promptly. Edmund followed, and Cora was forced to do the same. She subtly kept her gaze on the Slytherin's table.

Regulus was right there in the middle of them. She corrected herself; he wasn't necessarily in the middle, but more on the outside of the little circle, seemingly listening. His hair was in a loose, upward curve from his forehead after he'd taken off his sock cap, and his fingers idly rubbed the indentation beneath his bottom lip. Why must he be so involved with those Slytherins?

Butterbeer did have a sort of calming effect. Cora felt the warmth flow down her throat and into her stomach, though her nerves ebbed back upwards with every glance at the Slytherins. The thought of whatever scheme they had planned for today was horrifying. Normally, a group of students, despite being Slytherins, would never be that harmful. But in these days, that table of Slytherins could quite possibly be life-threatening with their sickening, psychotic devotion to the Dark Lord and his cruelty.

"Are you sure you're alright, Cora?" asked Adair, wiping foam from her upper lip.

Cora nodded. Perhaps she should tell them. Perhaps not. "What should we do after this?"

Edmund leaned back, stretching contentedly. "I wouldn't mind sitting here for the next

several hours," he said, closing his eyes.

"We could take a walk," suggested Adair.

"Goodness, Adair, that's the polar opposite of what I just suggested," said Edmund, his eyes shooting open.

"Wait, wait," said Cora, sitting up straighter. The Slytherins were bustling about, some standing.

Adair and Edmund turned and followed her gaze. "What?" asked Adair, looking back at Cora.

Cora, her eyes still watching the Slytherins, said quietly, "Listen, I heard Jungston and Barty discussing something about the Dark Lord, and some scheme they're going to carry out today. I think they're about to begin."

"Oh, surely they wouldn't try and pull anything today," said Adair, taking a sip of her butterbeer. "We're too close to the school."

"They're just students, Cora," said Edmund.

"Yeah, students who tried to curse me!" said Cora, turning towards her friends and taking her eyes away from the Slytherins. "You were there, unless you couldn't hear through all that rope." She turned back to the table. The Slytherins were gone. And Cora's stomach was dropping.

A mangled cry erupted from the street. Cora practically flew from her chair, its legs screeching across the wooden floor. She pushed through the door, and immediately noticed the sudden darkening of the sunlight.

Most passerby had stopped, and she followed their gaping gazes upwards. She felt her nostrils flare and her eyes widen. A gigantic skull had been molded into the gray clouds, a thin serpent-like billow slowly twisting its way from the mouth. The whole grotesque image pulsed in the darkening mass of clouds.

A shot of green light sparked beside the skull, and a second began to form. Then a third shot of green. A third skull. A fourth.

The sky was being filled with snaking tongues and lifeless skeleton faces. Adair and Edmund now stood behind Cora, watching the sky with horror.

"What are those?" gasped Adair.

Cora knew. These were the work of the Slytherins, a sort of publicity stunt for the Dark Lord. How could she prove to Dumbledore that they were responsible? They were nowhere in sight. She glanced around her, searching for one of them, until she saw a black-cloaked figure dart behind one of the buildings and into an alley. She quickly followed, not even thinking of Adair and Edmund watching behind her.

She stopped behind a short barrier formed by a wall which jutted out into the alley. The figure removed its hood - Jungston. Regulus stood beside him with Barty and Allen.

"Alright then, the others have all performed," said Jungston. "Your go, Reg." He smiled, the black in his teeth and gums visible from Cora's standpoint.

Regulus, she observed, didn't look incredibly comfortable. "Let me do this on my own," he said. "If you don't mind."

Jungston's smile immediately fell. "What?" he asked curtly. "Why?"

"Don't question me, Jungston," replied Regulus. "Besides, it will be more difficult for someone to find me if they follow the light to me. I can more easily run if I'm on my own."

"Fine," said Jungston. He, Barty, and Allen giddily fled down a separate alley.

Regulus walked towards the alley where Cora was crouched. She quickly turned, attempting to stay hidden in the shadows before he could see. She ducked behind another indent in the wall as he came nearer. She turned her head and watched him begin to raise his wand, his eyes focused on the sky. Then she took a step, emerging from the indention as if she had just happened to be coming this way.

Regulus locked eyes with her, his expression remaining unchanged.

She'd planned on saying something, stopping him. But she didn't.

He kept his eyes on her as he uttered a single word. "Avis."

A flock of birds flew from the dark lane and into the sky amongst the contorting skulls. Regulus turned and disappeared back up the alley, slipping his hands into his pockets.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I don't own anything you recognize. ALSO, I apologize for the delay in updating! I hate making excuses, but I do feel that some sort of explanation is needed. I'm currently working on a book that I plan to publish within the next year. It would be my first published work, so that's quite a big deal to me. So, most of my writing time has been consumed by that, and also my other story on this account. I will try to get another chapter of this one up very soon! Thanks again to anyone who has clicked on this, and is reading this right now. And a big thanks to anyone who has reviewed. It really does mean so much. Anywho, on with the reason you're here!

It was absolutely beyond strange how quickly Cora's world changed on holidays. She'd gone home for Christmas, and once she shut the back door to her parents' Ford Escort, it was as if she had woken up from a dream. The wand weighing down her coat pocket reminded her that she had indeed been awake all these years, and that Hogwarts would be waiting for her in two weeks. It was like this every time she returned home.

"How's your last year been so far, then, dear?" asked her mother from the passenger seat, glancing up in the rearview mirror through her thick bangs, which were curved so that they looked as though they might take off in flight at any moment.

"Just fine," said Cora, hoping that her mother could see her smile in the mirror.

"I suppose you're still running with Adair and Edmund?" asked her father. "How are

they?"

"Oh, they're lovely. Y'know, I'll really miss them once this school year ends," said Cora.

"Well, I still get in touch with some of my schoolmates now and then," said her mother.

"Surely it's that way with wizards, too."

Cora smiled. "Yes, I'm sure we'll always write."

Her mother's full name was Felicity Margaret Dawson Danes. She was an extremely caring woman, and was always trying her best to stay very in tune with her daughter's bizarre wizarding life. Most of the time she did not wholly succeed at this, and the slight discomfort on her face during her visits to Diagon Alley was somewhat entertaining for Cora. The woman really was trying, however. One aspect she _did_ understand of the wizarding world was its hearty misunderstanding of her own world. All the misconceptions of muggle devices and habits brought the woman great amusement.

Cora's father, Lawrence John Danes, was very much the same as her mother regarding involvement in the wizarding world. He had a deep respect for the wizards and witches which his daughter lived with for the majority of the year, but he was truly content with keeping his distance. He would not be jumping into a cart at Gringotts or popping a chocolate frog anytime soon. The outskirts of London were the streets he knew best, and he quite liked to remain there.

The car sputtered out of the city, and the curving, Georgian buildings faded into scattered thatched businesses and neighborhoods. One such neighborhood, with boxy, red brick homes identical to one another, and their square, black eyes of windows staring out at the light gray pavement, appeared so very familiar to Cora despite having left it for several months.

She lugged her trunk out of the car, trying to carry it up the driveway before her father hurried forward and hoisted it himself. She paused for a moment as he went in through the front door, and her mother bent down to pull at weeds before going inside. It was all suddenly very calm.

A pigeon landed on the gutter running above the garage, and Cora inhaled quickly. The calm within her evaporated. Avis. Oh, Avis.

Then she felt incredibly angry at herself for being reminded of _him_ , like she so often had been lately, rather than a much more important bird-related topic: her owl. "Oh, Lance!" she cried, spinning around to the backseat of the car and pulling the cage out. "Sorry about that."

The owl almost seemed to shrug.

Her room at the top of the stairs was just as she'd left it. A throw her mother had crocheted was slung over the edge of her bed. A curtain of beads hung to the side of her bay window. Piles upon piles of books were strewn about the carpet, yet still consciously placed in the same spots she always put them.

"Wait, Cora, come back down!" called her mother's voice from below.

That couldn't be good.

She threw Lance a look that an employee gives his mates when he's been called into the boss's office for something he knows he won't like. Down the stairs she went, and with a large group of cheering and smiling faces was she met.

"Oh! Er - goodness, hello," said Cora.

Her mother ran forward, beaming. "Your dear family has come for Christmas a few days early _just_ to greet you," she said.

They must've all been hiding in the kitchen, squashed in amongst the mustard cabinets and tile backsplash. Cora smiled at the face of her grandma, then her cousins, then her lunatic of an aunt, Martha. (Her grandma knew of Hogwarts, while the others had been told she was attending a _very_ exclusive boarding school for gifted children. Not such a lie, technically.)

"Well, um, happy Christmas!" said Cora with a laugh. Her family laughed in return.

The dining table was set up for twelve. Cora slid into the seat beside her father. Just as quickly as they'd seemed to arrive, the meal began.

"Martha, would you pass the potatoes?"

"Yes, John, dear, the stuffing, thanks."

"Oh, could you pass me the gravy, Heather?"

"Those runner beans look lovely, Felicity."

"I'm ready to tuck in, I reckon."

Cora didn't say a word; she watched everything with a smile. She took each bowl that she was handed, ladling some of whatever the contents were onto her plate. Less than an hour ago, she'd been in the wizarding world. Now she'd been flung back into Suburbia, right smack onto the wicker seat of her dining chair. Her aunt Martha ate a chunk of potato from the serving dish.

"How is that school of yours, then?" asked her uncle Harvey as he bit into a mini Yorkshire pudding.

"It's all going very well," said Cora.

"All good marks?" asked her aunt Debra.

Cora nodded. "All good marks."

"Any _laddy_ around?" asked Aunt Martha, suddenly forcing a Scottish accent upon her very London-centric voice.

Regulus's face flashed behind Cora's eyelids. "No, nothing in that department what. So. Ever," she said. She gave a laugh.

"Mm," grunted her grandma, taking a swig from her glass. "Be'er t'focus on the academics for now. You're nearin' the end. It's gettin' ver' important to keep those marks up."

"No need to worry about academics with Cora," said her father, eyeing his daughter with a smile.

Cora dug the side of her fork into a long green bean to cut it into two. She took one half to her mouth, chewing slowly. Hoping the conversation would shift so she could think rather than talk.

She did have much to think about. Family was a lovely thing to be surrounded by, yet her mind dwelled on something else, something she couldn't pry her thoughts from. Something she hadn't been able to stop thinking about since she'd watched those birds fly up among the skulls in the sky.

"Black?"

"What?" said Cora, the second green bean-half barely staying in her mouth.

"Coffee, dear. You still take it black?" Her aunt Debra was holding the coffee pot over Cora's cup.

"Oh, oh, yes," said Cora, nodding. (Her family had always indulged in coffee during meals, even at dinner.)

The stream of dark liquid fell into the cup, steaming and shaking as it rose to the rim. "Thanks," said Cora, throwing a brief smile up at her aunt. The coffee was hot against her lips. Burning.

Most of the relatives were staying at Aunt Debra's house, who lived in a somewhat large estate a few miles west of Cora's neighborhood. Many of them had dispersed back there after the meal, since there would be many more Christmas get togethers over the course of the holiday. Cora stood in the sitting room, studying a table which her mother had recently decorated with countless photos, most of them snapshots of her childhood - memories which only existed to her in that one moment, printed out and put into a frame.

"Lovely li'le picture display, innit?" said her grandma from behind.

Cora nodded. "There's one of you and Grandpa," she said.

Her grandma made a noise in the back of her throat. "What a sweet ol' man," she said, shaking her head. She glanced around. "This is the room. This is the room I said goo'bye t'him in." Her smile stayed. It was a sad one.

Cora turned towards the old woman, resting her hands on the table beside her. "How?" she asked simply.

"Tha's right, you must've been only...2? 3? Oh, who knows. He was sprawled ou'there, on the couch. Lookin' jus'a sad sight. Jus' me n' him home. (Y'know, since we lived here before your mum n' dad bought the place.) It was...a hard day," said her grandma, gazing at the couch.

Cora looked at the photo on the table. They both looked so much younger, smiling brightly in mid-laugh. She couldn't imagine the pain that young woman in the picture would feel, losing that handsome, sprightly man with his arm around her. The man whom you knew she loved just by studying the photograph. "You think he was your soulmate?"

Her grandma paused. "A'course," she said, nodding. "We had some troubles, in the beginning. He hung 'round with a rough crowd, y'know. But that was in school. He came to his senses. Now I know there's jus' no one else for me in th'world, even with him gone."

Cora looked back at the photograph. She kind of looked like her grandma, back when the old woman was young.

Regulus pulled off his sock, flinging it beside the other on his bedroom floor. No delicious smells wafted up to his bedroom like they had from the Great Hall at Hogwarts just a few hours ago. He didn't really notice. His mind was preoccupied.

He hadn't been caught by the other Slytherins, back in Hogsmeade, when he'd cast birds into the sky rather than a skull. He hadn't been able to cast that dark spell, not with _her_ right there. She'd emerged into that alley, and it was like a halo of light was around her. It was a moment of clarity. A moment of no going back.

He was home, but, yes, he was definitely not back.

He heard the loud laughter of Bellatrix from downstairs and shut his eyes. _What_ was he going to do. Following the Dark Lord had always felt so right. It still did; that was still his path. It had to be. But how could he follow the Dark Lord's doctrine when he was so...so _inebriated_ by a muggleborn?

He went to his desk and slid into the chair. He took out a piece of parchment, setting it beside his ink and quill. He had to settle this. He had to try and put his mind at rest. Every time he closed his eyes, among the pulsating, dull shapes of color, he saw her. He saw a dress of daisies, long curls, blue eyes. If he could just _try_ something to ease his thoughts, to set himself straight - he had to try.

The quill was cushioned by a bubble of ink against the parchment before the black liquid was swept into a large, cursive C.

 _Cora,_

 _I am fully aware of the abnormality of this letter. However, I want to enjoy my holiday, and I don't think I will be able to without putting these thoughts down onto parchment. My mind has been quite, well, a mess since that day in Hogsmeade. In total honesty, my mind has been a bit like a pot of boiling water for a while now, bubbling and steaming until finally, the sudsy water has erupted out and over onto the stovetop. (I'm afraid that's the strangest simile I've ever written, but it's accurate, I suppose.) It's as if suddenly, this year, this girl I've been classmates with since I was 11 has started showing up everywhere. You were always there, I know it, but now I can't stop seeing you. It shouldn't be like this; it's entirely unhealthy. And don't think for a moment that I have some sort of crush on you, Cora. It's something far different from that. It's like you've gotten into my head, and your bloody righteousness is pecking away at my brain, day in day out. I wish you'd stop, I really do. I know you saw me defy my duties with the others in Hogsmeade. I'd been feeling strange about the whole scene, anyways, but the moment I saw you, I couldn't follow through. You've completely bewitched me. This sounds more and more like a sickly love letter, but it truly is more of a personal organizer, something to help me out psychologically. It could also be a death sentence, for if my parents ever found out that I was even thinking of writing to someone of your blood status, I'd be better off in Azkaban. I fear that I'm rambling now. Happy Christmas._

 _Regulus Black_

He sighed, setting down the quill. Was it sufficiently sly and sarcastic? Was it too wordy? Was it enough? He blew lightly on the glinting ink. It was something.

The owl was home, luckily. He took the parchment and, after making sure the ink was dry, folded it into an envelope. He quickly wrote out _Cora Danes_. That was the only sort of address he had for her. It _had_ to be sufficient. He leaned out of his bedroom door. Muffled voices came from below, probably in the dining room. He could make it to the owl without being seen. The stairs didn't creak under his bare feet as he turned down the staircase towards the first floor. The drawing room was empty, aside for the owl perched in his cage by the window. Regulus strode across the sprawling rug, whose vibrant colors were somehow dulled by the dark wood of the walls, floor, and shelves, even despite the columns of light being cast across the room from the tall windows. "Alright, then," he said as he unlatched the cage. "Get this to Cora Danes, you got that?"

The owl looked into Regulus's eyes with its own, wide and unblinking.

" _Please_ ," said Regulus.

The owl gave him a single peck, then swiftly took the envelope in its beak.

Regulus threw the window open, and watched the owl, and his letter, disappear into the sky of London.

"Master Regulus?" said a croaking voice.

Regulus spun around. "Kreacher," he said. "Good to see you again."

Kreacher's shriveled face contorted into some sort of smile. "And I see you're already writing friends," he said, glancing at the open cage and window. He hurried over to the side of the boy.

Regulus crouched down. "Yeah, er...Kreacher, would you mind not...not mentioning this to my mother or father? It's not that big of a deal, it would just be...easier, if they didn't inquire."

Kreacher looked up at Regulus, then nodded. "Yes...yes, of course, Master Regulus."

Regulus smiled. "Thanks, mate," he said. He shut the window and the cage. "If they do ask

where the owl's gone to, just say I've been writing Allen."

Kreacher nodded again.

Regulus hurried back up to his room, taking one last glance out the window before he left.


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: I don't own anything you recognize.

A watercolor depiction of a cottage, tucked into cliffsides by the sea, sat amongst the keys and dishes on the foyer table.

"Is this from Erin?" called Cora.

"Yes, from Ireland," replied the voice of her mother from upstairs.

Cora took the postcard from atop the stack of mail, her fingers accidentally scattering the other envelopes. She flipped it over and read the message written in cursive pencil on the back.

" _Ireland is a dream. Missing my sweet Aunt Felicity, Uncle Lawrence, and my dear friend/cousin, Cora! I know you all would love the sea. John and I can smell the water on the breeze every morning, and-"_

Cora's eyes flicked away from the postcard long enough to see her name written on one of the scattered envelopes. She took it and examined it. No return address, but her name was written in ink. It was of the wizarding world.

"Mum?" she called again, her eyes steady on the ink. "Where'd you get this letter from? The one with my name on it."

"Oh, oh, yes, that one was just sat there on the porch. Like someone had just dropped it off! It's ink, dear. I assume it's from Adair or Edmund," called back her mother over the sound of her hairdryer.

Cora would've assumed so as well, had she recognized the handwriting. She took the strange envelope with her upstairs, her slippered feet plodding up the burgundy carpeted steps. She shut her door, muffling the sound of the hairdryer. She sat on the edge of her unmade bed and tore open the envelope.

And she read the letter. And she felt dizzy.

Regulus Black had written these words? For _her_? She read over the letter once again, taking in his scrawling script. The postcard had fallen to the floor, the blue, churning water of the Irish Sea tinted with the burgundy carpet beneath.

She really did feel like everything she'd thought she'd known about the world - about _her_ world - was crumbling down around her. _You've completely bewitched me_. She strode over to her desk in what felt like blurred, giddy movements and pulled open a drawer, digging for parchment. She smoothed out a piece and retrieved her quill. The materials were there, but the words were not as readily available. She carefully wrote out _Dear Regulus,_.

 _Dear Regulus,_

 _I must say that it was surprising to see your name at the signature of this letter. I'm not even sure what to say. I suppose, firstly, I should say that I, too, have taken more notice of you this year than ever before. It seems like you've shown up more and more in not only my days, but my thoughts. That's very cheesy, I know, but I want to tell you exactly how I've been feeling. I worry about you, Regulus. As strange as that sounds. And if I'm keeping the theme of honesty, then I'll tell you that I really did despise you ever since our first year, although that might not actually be much of a secret; it's only this year that my hatred has started to wane, and only because I've begun to see such good in you. That's where my worry comes from, that you might let the darker influences on your life overshadow the good that I know lives within you. You mention that you wish my "bloody righteousness" would leave you alone, but I wish quite the opposite. I didn't realize I had such an effect on you. You most certainly have an effect on me._

 _That day in Hogsmeade has left me in quite a similar state as it did you. I keep seeing you send those birds up into the sky. I suppose I assumed that moment had implanted you in my mind much more than it had put me in yours. I had been thinking about you before that moment, but it was then that my pot boiled over, too. (You're right; that metaphor is awful, but too accurate to not use.) What I'm trying to say is that I've been thinking about you just as much as you say you've been thinking about me._

 _I feel like I'm rambling a bit. If this is some sick joke, I swear I'll send the nastiest hex I know right your way. I don't think it is, though. I do think I have some trust in you, Regulus. Isn't that strange? Anyways, I hope you're having a good holiday. And thank you for writing._

 _Cora Danes_

She began to read back over her words, but stopped. This wasn't the type of letter to be edited. It was her thoughts, and that was that. She hurried downstairs to grab an envelope before she changed her mind. She blew on the ink before folding the parchment and slipping it in. Writing out _Regulus Black_ felt rather bizarre. Her morning had turned out much differently than she'd expected. This whole year had, so far.

Regulus leaned into the couch, his chin resting in his hand. The owl was back in its cage.

"They're here," called the shrill voice of his mother.

He sighed. Couldn't he just stay here, alone, and watch for the arrival of Cora's owl? Then he realized it probably wasn't even coming, he'd made a fool of himself, and Cora had probably burned his letter while laughing. He pushed himself up from the couch and turned towards the people entering the drawing room.

"My _dear_ cousin," said Bellatrix, outstretching her arms towards the boy.

He smiled. "Hello, Bella," he said, hugging the woman.

"Aren't you just so excited that all the family will be coming for Christmas?" asked Bellatrix, her voice sickly, psychotically sweet. The whites of her eyes were so white that they even stood out against her pale skin

"Of course," said Regulus. His eyes glanced instinctively towards the window. He looked back at his cousin and gave another smile.

"And your cousin tells me she has an early Christmas present for you," said Walburga, her thin smile curling across her face.

Bellatrix stared at Regulus, although it felt more as though her crazed eyes were pushing him into the wall, cornering him. "Come with me," she said. She held out her hand, wrist facing upwards. Regulus could see a tattooed tongue peeking out from beneath her fraying sleeve.

He grabbed onto her cold wrist, and felt his body be wrenched forward, inward.

The room was musty and humid, yet everything felt suddenly much colder. It was dark, and Regulus knew immediately what was about to happen. There was a fireplace filled with black, charred wood. A burgundy armchair faced it.

"Bring him closer," said a voice from the chair. A thin, serpentine voice.

Bellatrix went before Regulus, and kneeled down before the chair. "My lord," she said, her wild curls falling over her head as she bowed. "Regulus Black has come to devote himself to you." The words were slow, each syllable rolling of her tongue with such deliberateness.

"Let the boy tell me himself," said the voice.

Regulus swallowed, and went to stand in the spot Bellatrix had just hurriedly stood from. He rounded the chair and first saw the pale, hairless head leaning against the cushion. Then the piercing eyes. With that sight, he felt a weight upon his back pushing him down to the ground, kneeling. "My lord," he said, his voice much quieter than he expected.

"Mr. Black," said Voldemort. "Welcome, welcome."

Regulus stared down at the nebulas formed by the grains in the wood floor.

"You are devoted to the livelihood of the wizarding world? Of purebloods?" asked Voldemort.

Regulus looked up. "Yes," he said. "It is my life's cause." An image of Cora flashed in his mind. He blinked.

"My army is growing. Your...soldiery would be _such_ welcome devotion," said Voldemort.

"And you've proven yourself as you've grown."

Regulus nodded, overcome by the cold eyes staring into his. "I am ready to devote myself."

"Rise."

Regulus stood, and Bellatrix took his arm. She yanked up his sleeve, and twisted the

backside of his forearm upwards. Regulus held his gaze on the Dark Lord, who stood from his chair and glided over.

A pale hand emerged from the darkness of his flowing black robes, holding out a crude, white wand. Evilness radiated from it, and Regulus knew it. He felt a deep sickness within him, and yet he couldn't look away. This was the moment his parents had raised him for. He watched as the wizard's nails pressed into his forearm, and the tip of the wand formed a dip in the skin.

He never wore short sleeves again.

Loud voices filled Grimmauld Place, but Regulus sat in his room. He had his sleeve pulled up, and his left forearm rested against his leg. The mark was not jet black, not right now. He couldn't take his eyes from the skull, the tongue. An image of his hand brushing back dark curls came into his mind, but it was polluted by the sight of the mark so close to that innocent, sweet face. He felt the nausea churning in his stomach again.

There was a light rapping at his door. "Master Regulus," said the feeble voice of Kreacher. "A letter."

Regulus sprang from the bed, standing straight as a rod. He didn't even think to answer at first. He pulled down his sleeve and found the words, "Yes, come in."

Kreacher ambled into the bedroom, holding out the envelope. Regulus took it. It was crisp and perfectly white, with neat, flowing script spelling out his name on the front. Everything about it was simply _her_.

The house elf left, and Regulus shut the door behind him. Now he couldn't take his eyes from the name on the envelope. He carefully opened it, unfolding the parchment. He sat down on the side of his bed and read her words.

Within five minutes, he was at his desk with a fresh piece of parchment and a ready quill.

 _Dear Cora,_

 _Well, well, well. I truly half-expected you to ignore my letter. Thank you for doing the opposite. I suppose we're on the same page, then, regarding our opinions of each other. I'm pleased, really; you've been driving me bloody mad. It's nice to know I've been doing the same to you. Quite frankly, I'm not sure why; you have nothing about you that I could change. Me affecting you would be like a wise man seeking advice. It just doesn't quite make sense. Either way, we can move on from all that, about us affecting each other and such. It's been established._

 _And now I don't really have much more to say on the matter, but I'm afraid that I don't necessarily want this chain of letters to end. I suppose I'll add some normalcy to this strange, new conversation. What are you doing right at this moment? Or, rather, what are you doing when you receive this letter? Have you received any gifts yet? Is your family over, and are they as bloody insane as mine? That felt strange to say. I've never said anything like that about my family, at least not aloud or to anyone else. I've rarely even let myself think it. God, Miss Danes, what are you doing to me?_

 _You know, I think I'm rambling once again. My train of thought has changed course several times throughout the writing of this letter._

He paused in his writing. He was compelled to tell Cora about the mark. About how he felt some sort of sick pride and childhood fulfillment, and yet wanted to tear it off his skin and into the charred ruins of the fireplace in that haunting room. Why did he want to confide in her? Why was any of this happening? With her? He thought of how horrified everyone he was close to would be at even the notion of what he was doing, at this chain of letters with a muggleborn.

 _I'll look forward to hearing from you._

 _Regulus Black_

It was just days later that Cora responded.

 _Dear Regulus,_

 _I'll answer your questions first. At this very moment, I am sitting at my desk in my room. I haven't received any gifts yet; we hold off until Christmas morning for any present-giving. And I can currently hear my grandma downstairs. My family is all in town, but they only come by my house occasionally. I'd like to call them a "loveable insane," but in total honesty, they're quite ordinary. I'm sure you'd despise them; absolutely nothing wizard about any of them._

 _I've heard about your family, however. The Blacks, the regal and mysterious Blacks. I figured you got along just swell with the lot of them. I think sometimes we might fool ourselves into loving those we think we're supposed to love. Not that you don't love your family, but I think as we grow up we realize that the people we've always looked up to have a lot more darkness to them than we ever saw before. And the things we once hated can begin to look so much brighter to us, sometimes._

Regulus wrote back, after spending some time smiling down at these casually wise words she'd sent him.

 _Dear Cora,_

 _These letters have made time fly. Christmas is just in a couple of days, isn't it? And what you said in your last letter was very, well, wise of you. I think many things are beginning to look brighter to me as of late. I've been compelled to go into more detail of my experiences during this holiday, but, if I'm being honest with you, I fear that sort of commitment. I've been wanting to trust you and confide in you (why in Merlin's name, I'm not sure,) but I feel like the moment I do will be the moment I can't go back. I fear that I'll regret it. After all, we really are so different. We come from different worlds, and there are so many reasons why I should keep my distance, let alone why you should keep yours._

 _I have a proposition for you. These letters are fun and all, but why don't you meet me on Christmas Eve? Have you seen the White Cliffs of Dover? Let's meet there. Or we can meet beside the Tower of London, if you'd rather. But I'll try the cliffs first._

 _Regulus Black_

Cora read this last bit with concern. What if this was all a hoax? An elaborate plan between Regulus and his Dark Lord buddies to avenge his quidditch injuries? A way to bring her out to the vulnerability of the Dover cliffsides? No. No, surely not. Was she really so thick that she was beginning to trust him?

She was.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: I am SO sorry for the major delay! I've been on a trip and therefore have been rather unable to do much writing. Without further ado, of course, I don't own anything you recognize. Thank you.

Regulus found himself in a patch of scrubby grass at a downhill slope. The scattered lights of stars reflected in the sea below, and the brilliant white of the cliffsides still shone in the darkness. He pulled his coat tighter around him, glancing at his surroundings. These cliffsides were ten miles long, weren't they? Hell, Cora could be anywhere. He debated whether it would be better to stay put or to journey along the paths in search of her.

He stood for a moment, looking down on either side of him as far as he could see in the dark. On his left, the cliffs continued, with their mangy slopes and bushy terrain. On his right, these slopes persisted, but were interrupted by a lower pathway with the faint outlines of railing. Perhaps he would wait there next.

Cora wrapped her coat around herself, glancing around her room for anything she'd forgotten. Shoes, coat, hat. That was it, surely. The flaps of white plastic in the vinyl clock on her bedside table read 11:42 p.m. It would be Christmas in less than twenty minutes. With that, she focused her mind on the spot she had once stood with her parents, overlooking the blue sea, and she left.

She found herself in that same spot, but darkened from her memory. The faint shadows of mangled shrubs and the wafting sound of seawater welcomed her. She glanced around, and saw no one. A dim sense of fear bubbled in her stomach momentarily. She went to the railing, held on, and looked up at the stars.

Regulus checked his left once again. No sight of anyone. He checked his right, and glanced back down at the railed-in lower pathway. A figure stood; a faint dot of pink donning its head.

The boy tucked his hands into his coat pockets and hurried through the brush and onto the flat, green plain. He turned back onto the slope and down to where the figure stood.

She turned at the sound of his footfalls. "Regulus?" she said, her voice gentle and smooth. Just as he'd heard in his mind when he'd read her letters.

"Cora," said Regulus, coming to stand before her. The starlight was illuminating her face with a dim dusting of light.

"It's, um, good to see you," she said. She was slightly nervous.

Regulus gave a cough. "Yes, yes, it's...uh, good to see you," he said. He could hardly let himself believe how sincerely he meant it.

"And your holiday? Has it been well since the last time we spoke?" asked Cora, her fingers fidgeting within her coat pockets.

Regulus smiled smally. "Cora," he said quietly. "We don't have to be like this. Smalltalk and all."

Cora smiled, glancing down at her feet. "Yes," she said. "I know. It's easier in writing, isn't it?"

Regulus let out a chuckle and looked down at his own feet. He nodded. "It's strange either way," he said. "I really, _really_ shouldn't care for you in the slightest." He paused, and felt his nose lift a few centimeters higher into the air. "Not that I do now."

"Well. _I_ care about you, Regulus," said Cora. She looked into his face, earnest and impassioned.

He realized he couldn't look away from her eyes, with the stars glinting in them alongside her spirited, yearning gaze. There were so many Slytherin girls, purebloods... _so_ many. None of them were Cora. No one was but her. "Oh...you know I care for you, too," he said, his voice a raspy sort of whisper that surprised him.

She seemed surprised, too, and they shifted their feet towards each other.

"I just mean that, well, you know. The thought of you just lingers around me...all the time," said Regulus in the same whisper. "Like a foul stench."

She laughed and nodded. "Yeah," she said, her voice lowering now, too. "I know."

They were quiet. "We should walk," said Regulus.

The cliffsides, once up the slope, were, for the vast majority of the time, a flat, green plain with a steep cutoff; it was as if some gigantic being had taken a scalpel to the land mass and sliced off a section, leaving a completely straight wall of white to serve as the symbol for, "Welcome to England." Regulus and Cora strolled alongside the cliffs' edge, both of their hands in their own pockets.

"So I assume no one will ever know about this?" said Cora with a chuckle, though both knew her words were sincere.

Regulus replied with more gravity to his voice. "You know I can't," he said. "I'm struggling even now with _myself_. I can't imagine how my parents would feel about this rendezvous."

"But you do agree with them? Surely your life philosophies regarding muggleborns can't have changed overnight, simply because you've taken more notice of one lately," said Cora.

Regulus looked at her, at the distant waves beyond her mass of curls. "I can't ignore what has driven my life for so many years," he said. "It wouldn't be that simple. But...something is... _off_ enough to make me question my duties to the D-, well, to my family and fellow purebloods."

Cora was quiet. "Good," she said after a moment.

"Oh?" said Regulus.

"I just think that if you hadn't grown up around the influences that you did, then, well, maybe you wouldn't think so harshly of people like me," said Cora. "It's all about the people we know. That's what shapes our ideas."

"I don't think so harshly of you. Not anymore," said Regulus. "I just see so much value in keeping the bloodlines of the wizarding world clean."

"Clean," repeated Cora.

"No, Cora, listen," said Regulus. He stopped their strolling, turning towards her. "That's not what I mean. It was, not all that long ago. But you...I just can't see how you'd be a stain on the wizarding world. A few months ago, I would've looked at you and saw a...a mudblood. That's it. Bloody hell, a few _weeks_ ago I would've thought that. But you're so...much more, you know?"

Cora watched him intently. "We _all_ are," she said.

"But _you_ , you're so...compassionate. So kind, and intelligent. I never...I've never been around someone that has a kindness such as yours. I just…" He paused, overcome with some sort of emotion. Maybe anger.

"Regulus," said Cora, a nervous chuckle barely escaping from her lips. She wanted to reach out to him.

His hands were itching to do the same as they emerged from his pockets, just barely twitching towards her.

The faint waves were the only sound as they stood so near one another. Two teenagers from different worlds, so far apart for all their lives. Here they stood, confused, surprised, and feeling a deep emotion in the pits of their stomachs that neither could ever, and would ever, be able to put into words.

"I wonder if it's Christmas yet," whispered Cora.

"Happy Christmas," whispered Regulus, his eyes moving down her face.

"What if it's still Christmas Eve?"

" _Happy Christmas_."

And suddenly, unjustly, he was reminded of the mark beneath his sleeve, and he felt disgusted with himself, with his family, his house, and everything else he was affiliated with. That mark should be a thing of pride, and it would've been, had she not shown up. Now it burned into his skin; a scar. "Cora," he said, stepping away.

"What?"

"There's...I should really be going," said Regulus. She didn't deserve him. She was too good.

"Oh, o-okay," said Cora.

"Thank you for meeting with me," said Regulus, rubbing his forearm. "I-I'm sorry."

"That's alright," said Cora, watching with confusion. "Are you alright?"

He nodded, still rubbing. "Truly, happy Christmas," he said.

She smiled faintly. "Happy Christmas."

And in a sharp swirl of wind, quicker than a gunshot, he was gone.

He appeared before the steps of Grimmauld Place, lungs filling with cold air. _What_ was he doing? On one hand, Cora had nothing to do with the Dark Lord, with his philosophies. She didn't belong even near the Black family. On the other hand, _Cora had nothing to do with the Dark Lord_. She was safer away from Regulus. He was endangering her life just by standing beside her, with his crude tattooed forearm just centimeters from her innocent self. She was a precious mind, soul, person... _what_ was he doing?

Cora stood atop the white cliff for several moments, alone, after Regulus departed. He had reason to be wary. She did, too, of course. His life philosophies were a threat to her own self. And yet, he faced total disownment just for having the _thought_ of desiring conversation with her. Logically, a friendship between them was mad. Mental. Emotionally, it was unquestionably necessary.

She left, appearing at the foot of her bed. She stared for a moment at the faint patterns on her quilt, focusing her mind on the stitching rather than her passing nausea. She went to her wardrobe, pulling off her jeans and coat, and throwing her pink stocking cap onto her window seat. She changed into her blue pinstriped pajama set, and buried herself under her bed covers. Her eyes focused on the small stack of parchment and envelopes on the desk across the room. And she closed her eyes.

It was, indeed, Christmas.

The morning came swiftly, and Cora found herself surrounded by all the family who had shown up periodically throughout the holiday. All of the cousins sat on the carpeted lounge floor, Cora among them. She thought of her favorite cousin, Erin, enjoying her quiet Christmas morning in that Irish cottage by the sea with her love. And she thought of Regulus.

Great Aunt Edna plopped down on the piano stool, which disappeared beneath the woman's soft and bulbous floral-patterned backside. "I think it's time to sing so old Father Christmas can hear us!"

The younger cousins squirmed excitedly on the floor, some of them tucking their spindly legs beneath them to sit up just a little higher. "When does he come?" asked one.

Aunt Edna thought for a moment. "When he can hear us singing, he'll be on his way! But we'll have to _keep_ singing to keep him coming," she said. She started in on the piano, and a chorus of "Jingle Bells" filled the front lounge.

Cora sang, but there was a sadness to her voice. She used to be one of those tiny kids, sitting with her legs folded on the lounge carpet, with wide eyes waiting for Father Christmas. Now she knew that Father Christmas was a man from Aunt Edna's bible study group, Tim Ellis. He brought gifts, but they'd all been bought by Cora's grandma a couple of weeks prior to the get together.

Tim Ellis came in, the plastic bells on his Father Christmas costume jingling as he barreled into the front entrance. The kids leaned forward, fidgeting, entranced by the deep, bellowing voice of the man. They didn't wonder why Father Christmas himself would stop by only _their_ suburban home in England on Christmas.

When he passed out the gifts from his bag, he subtly read the names written on the tags before calling them out. The kids tenderly took their packages from the man's gloved hand, staring up into the face of Father Christmas with their own wide eyes.

"Cora!" he said.

She stood and maneuvered around the kids and the wrapping paper cluttering the carpet. She took the package, despite feeling a little silly. She sat back down in her spot and tore into the paper.

Within a white box was a rose gold watch with a cream face. The hands of the clock were formed by the wings of a white bird who remained stationary in the middle of the face. She smiled across the room at her grandma, who nodded in return.

Regulus sat at the long dining table in Grimmauld Place. Other Blacks were gathered there, but the holiday was far from cheery. Darkness hung over the room, per usual. The family's surname was fitting, really. He couldn't help but think of Cora's Christmas festivities, which were probably filled with laughter, tinsel of gold and silver, presents wrapped brightly. A house filled with muggles, yes, but a happy home, regardless. He looked about himself at the dull colors, and he saw Cora's vibrant pink sock cap.

"For you, Regulus," said his mother, handing him a simple black box.

"Thank you," said Regulus with a smile. He removed the lid as the table watched him, and pulled out a pocket watch. "Oh, this is marvelous!"

His father, in his snakily smooth voice, said, "Yes, and it's special."

"The hands will point to 12:12 when you view what you desire most," said his mother. "Unless it's simply 12:12, of course. That's a bit of a glitch."

Bellatrix snorted from two seats down.

"We thought it would be the perfect way to shine light on your new devotion to the Dark Lord," said his father. "Which is a gift with a greatness we could not surpass."

Regulus smiled. "Yes, thank you," he said. In his stomach, he felt a growing nausea. Naturally, when he felt even _somewhat_ unsure of his following his family's philosophy, the _moment_ Cora's thoughts began invading his own, his parents unknowingly found a way to reveal him. What would they do when the Dark Lord stood before their dear son, and the watch's hands remained stock still?

He looked around at the littering of gift wrapping, all of dull color. For a moment, he thought of Sirius, and the absence of any gift for him. The absence of any mention of him.

Maybe Sirius was onto something when he left.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I don't own anything you recognize.

The last thing Cora had packed for her return to Hogwarts was an envelope. It was of the wizarding world, so she naturally assumed it was of a certain Mr. Black. Nevertheless, the name Remus Lupin was scrawled as the return address. And she saved it.

She sat alone in a cabin on the Hogwarts Express. The platform beyond the glass of the window was filled with frantic-eyed parents pushing loaded trolleys, scrambling children, teenagers who knew too well what to do, and the occasional wire cage holding some creature. The air was abuzz with a smoky haze and the clamor of noises.

"How was your Christmas, then?" said a voice.

Cora turned her gaze from that of the platform and saw Edmund smiling in the cabin doorway. "Edmund!" She returned his smile. "My holiday was just fine, yes. How was yours?"

He shrugged. "Got a jumper." He pulled back his cloak to reveal a burgundy and dark green stitched sweater. "What'd you get?"

She pulled up her cloak sleeve to reveal the watch. "This is my favorite gift I got," she said.

Edmund stepped closer to examine it. "Oh, that's lovely," he said. "I love the bird there. What a nice face."

"Did someone say 'nice face?'" said another voice.

Cora laughed, and Edmund turned towards the doorway. "Oi, Adair. Feeling confident today?" he said.

Adair moved into the cabin and shut the door behind her. "I suppose I am feeling rather good, considering I'll be going to Morocco this summer," she said.

"Morocco?" exclaimed both Cora and Edmund.

Adair nodded excitedly. "My parents surprised me Christmas morning. Isn't that just great?"

"That's going to be _so_ fun, Adair," said Cora.

"You could go on holiday, too, y'know. You're just too busy with your...oh, I don't know, your anti-dark magic business," said Adair.

Cora laughed. "Anti-dark magic business?"

Edmund nodded. "Like _the Order_ ," he said.

"It's silly, Cora. To want to be so involved with those things," said Adair, sitting down across from Cora and Edmund.

"Dangerous, too," said Edmund.

"You should be enjoying your summers while you're young!" said Adair.

Cora scoffed. "Oh, you two! Do you honestly believe I would enjoy myself if I _wasn't_ pursuing being an Auror or, yes, joining the Order?"

"Yes," said Adair and Edmund.

Cora shook her head. "Well, I don't. Personally, I can't understand _not_ wanting to get involved in times like these."

"You've seen the halls this year. Practically empty!" said Adair.

"All those people that've left may well have the right idea," said Edmund.

"Not all of them have simply left, Edmund," said Cora.

"Oh, don't be so dark," begged Adair.

"It's true!" said Cora. "These dark forces have to be stopped. And I plan on helping in doing so."

Adair and Edmund shared a degrading, almost pitying, glance, shaking their heads lightly.

"In fact, I've got an unopened letter from Remus Lupin himself," said Cora.

"Well, he's sure a member of your anti-dark magic business," said Adair.

"Yes," said Cora.

"Didn't you write anyone over holiday who _isn't_ involved with your valiant efforts against the Dark Lord?" asked Edmund with a laugh.

Cora chuckled lightly, but thought to herself how the only person she'd really been in contact with was very much _not_ involved with the Order in any way.

"I know we seem harsh, Cora, but we're only joking," said Adair with a chuckle. "We _are_ a bit worried for you, though."

"Don't you worry yourselves," said Cora. "I've always taken good care of myself, haven't I?"

Several cars down, Regulus sat in an aisle seat beside Allen. His eyes were trained on the passing students, watching for the sight of black curls. None such passed.

"Can I see it again?" asked Allen.

"Quiet, Allen," said Regulus. "It's not exactly something I can advertise."

Allen nodded. "You should be able to, though," he said, his voice closer to a whisper now. "It's _amazing_."

"Yes, well, thank you, Allen," said Regulus. He tugged his sleeve even farther down his wrist.

"Just a few more months," said Allen, shaking his head slowly. "And then you're off into the real world."

Regulus nodded.

"And you'll finally _really_ be _one of them_!" Allen whispered, pure glee flaming in his scrunched up eyes.

Regulus gave the boy a light smile. He told himself it was good, to be one of them. It was an accomplishment. Ignore what Cora's voice is telling you. Being one of them was right.

Or was that just what he'd been telling himself for years?

The train left the platform, leaving behind the cacophony of voices and animal screeches, and replacing it with the loud hum of the engine, the grinding of wheels against tracks. Regulus leaned his head back against his seat and closed his eyes.

Colors flashed against the black sea of his eyelids. The sky shining in through the windows reflected as a golden, heavy heat on his skin. Reds pulsated across his vision; licking flames of translucent color. A pink stripe slowly etched across, moving out of sight and into the void beyond his eyelids. It was like a wizard sat in his head, sending out spells which moved as if carried on the surface of water by a lazy breeze.

And, of course, she was there among the colors.

Beyond Regulus's mind, Cora physically sat in the corner of her train cabin. Edmund was examining chocolate frog cards; Adair was reading a book which kept asking her to move her fingers from the spine as it was rather ticklish. Cora reached into the bag she had sitting next to her and pulled out Remus's envelope. The parchment inside was folded perfectly.

 _Cora,_

 _How lovely to hear from you. The whole gang says hello, especially Lily. I hope your holiday was well. And now I must ask that you keep our correspondence secret before I continue on._

Cora turned the letter closer to her at this sentence, then read on.

 _The Order is gaining members. You'll be out of Hogwarts in a matter of months. There is nothing I'd love more than to have such a talented witch as you to join. I know of your aspirations to become an Auror. I believe that having an Auror on the Order will be incredibly valuable. Please, consider yourself a member, Cora. I've spoken to the others. Right when you get out of school, you'll be able to come to the meetings. Until then, I will try and keep you as updated as possible. I'm so glad to have you on the team._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Remus Lupin_

Her eyes focused on the floor of the cabin. It shook, but her body felt as still as a stone. She was a member of the Order of the Phoenix. She was in.

The letter seemed to fold itself back into the envelope.

"Please remove your fingers from my spine! Must I ask again?" said Adair's book.

Edmund tilted a chocolate frog card towards the sun reflecting off the window's glass.

A group of students with green ties walked past the cabin door.

"I'm going for a walk," said Cora.

The hallway was inhabited by only a few straggling students. She wanted to grab each one of them by the collars and tell them how she - _she_ \- was a member of the Order. And yet, she wanted to hold her letter to her chest, alone, and keep it as her own private knowledge forever. Her own secret.

Secrets, thought Regulus. Secrets had never been a problem of his, at least not among his family or colleagues. But now, the idea of his mind being completely open for any of them to see, to walk through, was petrifying.

"Occlumency is the _key_ to getting to your enemy," hissed Barty. "Imagine the power you'd have."

"Knowing the things they keep hidden in their own minds," agreed Jungston.

Regulus, wearing his school sweater over a white button-up, was surrounded by the boys at a table, and the conversation had been centered around the mystical magic of occlumency for at least fifteen minutes. He hadn't said a word.

"Imagine the torture you could cause someone," hissed Barty. "Just through knowing what they keep secret."

Jungston laughed.

Regulus rested his elbow on the table, rubbing his thumb into the crook of his pointer finger. If they could see inside his mind, he'd be absolutely dead. Suddenly he became very aware of the weight of the watch in his pocket.

The sliding of the door to the section cut through the hum of students' voices. Regulus glanced up absentmindedly around Allen. And then his thumb paused against his finger.

Cora stopped herself abruptly in the doorway, meeting his eyes. His hand was poised in the air, his elbow on the table, and his face frozen. The boys around him took no notice of his stare.

She stared right back. She hadn't planned in the slightest to run into him; his face struck her the moment she had opened the sliding door. She gave a slow nod before stepping back out of the doorway and shutting the door.

Regulus coughed. "Lads, I'm going to take a short walk. It's tight in here," he said. He slid out of his seat after Allen stood. He slipped his hands into his pockets, strolling casually to the sliding door. He closed it behind him.

She was there, just as she had been on the cliffs. In the hospital wing. In the courtyard.

"Hi," she said, and she smiled.

"Hi," he said, and he smiled.

Both smiles were shy, reluctant.

"Should we go somewhere?" asked Regulus, his voice low.

"Surely there's an empty cabin somewhere," said Cora.

They started down the hall before Cora held out her arm. "Wait," she said.

"Are your friends in there?" said Regulus, nodding towards a door.

Cora paused, then nodded. "It's not that I'm _embarrassed_ to be seen with you, or anything, I just-,"

Regulus smiled. "I know," he said. "There was a cabin not too far back that just had one kid in it." He turned, walked a bit, and knocked on a door.

"What is it," said the student inside, although it was hardly said like a question.

"We need this cabin," said Regulus as Cora stepped into sight.

The student raised one eyebrow. "Okay…" he said, stepping around the pair. He watched them as he started down the hall.

"Alright then," began Regulus, stepping aside to let Cora in first. He shut the door behind them.

Cora coughed, standing in the middle of the cabin. Barren, cold fields blurred past in the window. She turned towards Regulus. "Good to see you again," she said quietly.

He nodded, watching her.

The drone of the train moving on the track filled the quiet.

"You know, it's strange, to prefer being with you," he said. "As rude as that sounds."

She laughed. "No, no, I understand," she said. "I, um, I thought of those cliffs often, after we left."

A wave seemed to pass over his face, and his lips turned upwards. "Me too," he said, his voice nearing a whisper. He hesitated. "Cora, I hope you don't mind me asking, but...what exactly are we doing?"

Cora smiled, her tongue peeking through her teeth. "I have no idea," she said, shaking her head slowly.

"It seems as though every time we meet, I feel more and more like, like you're the only person I can trust. Quite backwards, really," said Regulus.

Cora nodded, her lips still smiling.

Regulus's smile began to wane. "If...if I'm going to trust you, then...then there's something I should, perhaps, show you," he said, looking down at the ground.

Cora's smile faded as well. "You can show me," she said quietly, watching him carefully.

Regulus stood still. Without taking his gaze from the floor, he reached to his sleeve and began rolling it. He pushed the two layers up to his elbow, and turned his forearm upwards. "There," he said, as though the word was sick, being pushed over a rock in his throat.

Cora's nostrils flared and her eyebrows tilted downwards. His pale skin was mutilated by the crude, serpentine skull. She knew of its origins. "You didn't," she whispered.

"I had no choice," he said, his voice rocky. "It was a Christmas present." He clenched his teeth.

"So you're one of them now?" she asked. "One of his followers?"

"I...yes," said Regulus.

"I guess my real question is, do you wish to be?" asked Cora. She was surprised at herself; she was holding back tears.

Regulus paused. "I don't know," he said.

The hum of the train filled the quiet again.

"That's okay," said Cora. "It's okay to not know."

"But I always knew, for so long," said Regulus. "Having this mark was my ultimate goal. And now I hide it."

"Right now all you have to know is what your heart is telling you," whispered Cora.

His eyes bored into her own. "It's being pulled two ways," he whispered in return.

She felt her stomach plummet. His gaze, so telling, so deep, pulling her into him. And yet they stood apart. For the first time, or perhaps just the first time she admitted it to herself, she wanted to feel his kiss.

There were voices outside, down the hall. Regulus pulled his sleeve back down to his wrist, turning from Cora. "I should get back to the table," he said quietly.

"I should get back to Adair and Edmund," said Cora.

Regulus turned back to her, and they watched each other. The cliffs. Both wanted to be back on the cliffs.

"Nice walk?" asked Adair when Cora closed their cabin door behind her.

Cora nodded, sitting back down in between her bag and the wall. "As good as a walk up and down a train corridor can be."

"We're nearly there, surely," said Edmund, gazing out the window.

Cora pressed the back of her head into the wall, pushing towards where she knew Regulus sat. He was one of them - a Death Eater, as they were called. She shouldn't let herself care; she should run from him as fast as she could. She suddenly became very aware of the weight of the letter from Remus in her pocket.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: I don't own anything you recognize.

"There're even less students after holiday," whispered Edmund. He stood in between Cora and Adair, watching the thin trickle of cloaked teenagers pass by under the stone arches.

"Everyone's scared," said Cora. "If there's to be a war, parents want their children with them, in hiding."

"A war," breathed Adair. "Y'know, before seeing this...this _massive_ drop in attendance, I was...I don't know, doubtful about this whole Dark Lord business. I mean, you know that. But goodness, just look around."

Cora nodded. "There's a fear in the air. It's grown since we were last here."

"Standing about, are we?" asked the shrill voice of McGonagall. "Class won't wait for you, you know."

The three quickly gathered their things. "Yes, Professor," said Edmund as they hurried off.

"But I don't see how any dark forces could get in here with McGonagall around," said Adair as they scurried away. "Surely even Voldemort is scared of her."

Cora smiled. "I like her."

It was the first morning of classes after their return from Christmas holiday. There was, as the three had observed, a highly apparent lack of students returning to Hogwarts. There was a hesitant, lingering tinge of dread on every breath of air passing along the stones of the halls. A fear had been bubbling for months - years - now, but the worry now hung on every face, tainting every laugh that may have tried to cut through the darker shadows closing in.

The Slytherins, for the most part, seemed very much at ease. Worry didn't cling to their passing glances; they strode through the school in throngs and gangs just as they had every year prior. Some of them, of course, didn't necessarily have the guaranteed protection provided by their parents' status with the Dark Lord, and therefore felt the same fear that swayed at the necks of the other students like an ever-tightening noose. And yet, those unaffiliated Slytherins felt the added pressure, the same danger, of wearing that green tie, but not siding with the children of Death Eaters who slept in the same dormitories as them every night.

And one Slytherin was forced to walk with the other protected Slytherins, living under the frightened gazes of Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors - all of whom he wanted only to reach out to, to tell his inner conflicts. " I am not one of them!" he would shout. _And yet I am. I must be_ , his heart whispered.

And, of course, he would pass by _her_ from time to time, a curly-haired glow among the black cloaks. He would meet her eye as she glided past, and she would look into him. Always there was someone at her side, speaking to her, and he understood the gleam that was always in their eyes when they looked at her; she had a pull. People gravitated towards her. And for all these years at Hogwarts, he'd unknowingly been in a slow orbit - circling, circling, until finally pulled into her, wrapping himself in her light, her wisdom, her comfort. And with every passing glance, every moment of absolute agony as they walked away from each other, he knew he was being enveloped deeper and deeper, with no chance of escape. It wasn't love, surely not. It wasn't that- no, no. He was dark, but she held the same light that had been kindling within him his entire life. And when his sparks met one with a similar flame, they were ignited. That was all; not love.

And she would pass by him in the halls, meet his dark eyes that had somehow grown so much lighter in the past months. She would recognize his pleading gaze; they would hold entire conversations without words in those fleeting seconds. In fact, she wasn't sure if the things they told each other in their eyes could even be words if given the chance. They were simply emotions, the sort of aching you feel in your chest when a far-off, warm memory of childhood: a landscape out of a familiar and distant windowpane, a warm hand on your own, is placed in your head. These feelings, these aches, were sent to each other in the four seconds of looking at each other through the milling students in the halls of Hogwarts, as the rays of midday's sun mingled with the invisible strokes of color that surely rolled on the air between their eyes. Neither had ever felt such conviction within their chests.

And yet, he thought of the glory the Dark Lord offered. Already, he had proven himself to his parents just by not being his brother. And yet, the temptation, the lifelong dream of following the Dark Lord was so real, and so tangible. He could not throw that away.

And then he would remember the light she emits, and his gaze would once again be yanked from the shadows and the ache in his chest would flourish from where it left off. And he knew, he knew, the light was stronger. He ached more for it than he ever had for the dark, more than for the black lines carved into his forearm.

"Heard anything back on your astrology essay?" asked Adair, sitting down beside Cora on a Ravenclaw dormitory sofa.

Cora shifted her feet underneath the blanket. It was the first week of March; cold, no matter how near the fireplace was. Maybe, somehow, it was the sight, through the tall windows, of the barren tree branches silhouetted against the night sky that added to the empty chill in the dormitory. She pulled the blanket closer to her neck. "Not a thing," she said. "Now that essay was _art_ , Adair. You read it. I poured my soul onto that parchment."

"Well, as much soul as you can pour out over the movement of planets," said Adair, taking a corner of Cora's blanket and draping it over her own legs. "You'll get a high mark, don't worry."

Cora laughed, her head resting against the back of the sofa. "Y'know, I can't even find it within myself to care too much anymore," she said. "There's just a handful of months left here at Hogwarts."

Adair sighed. "And I still don't have a boyfriend."

Cora hit Adair's leg with a cushion. "You've had several love interests."

"But hardly a passionate love affair, nothing to last," laughed Adair. "Some girls seem to find their absolute soulmate at Hogwarts. Guess there's just no one quite good enough for us, huh?" She snorted and rubbed her eyes.

Cora let her head roll against the sofa, her smile losing its strength. "I guess not," she said.

"Well, you had Remus. Although I don't know how _serious_ that was, I suppose. It's a logical match, nonetheless," said Adair.

"Oh, I think Remus is a wonderful guy, but he's no romantic interest, not anymore," said Cora.

The girls fell quiet, the hum of the fire matching the tones of the murmured conversations from the other corners of the common room.

"Y'know, Edmund, he's really grown up a lot in these past few years," said Adair nonchalantly.

Cora's head shifted to look at her friend, her hair brushing against the fabric of the sofa. "Well...yeah, yeah, I suppose he has," she said.

Adair nodded slowly, studying her fingers fiddling with each other in her lap. "Mentally, of course, but...but physically, too." Her tone was as casual as she could possibly make it, an air of forced nonchalance bringing a surprised smirk to Cora's face.

"I guess that does happen when people age," she said.

Adair finally met Cora's gaze, and a scolding expression took over her own. "Cora, don't look at me like that and _don't_ be ridiculous - I know what you're thinking," she said. "Absolutely ridiculous."

Cora held up her hands in apologetic surrender, but smiled still. The fire popped.

The second week of March brought mildly warmer temperatures and a new essay assignment in Slughorn's potions class. The essay gave the students a choice, however - a choice of topic. The popular ideas were Felix Felicis, Amortentia; these were the potions that appealed most to the more simplistic, excitable minds of many students. Regulus watched the peers at his table convene to discuss the possible dark magic subject matters. He, on the other hand, had no idea what to write about. On one hand, Slughorn would be easily pleased with whatever Regulus put on the man's desk, for he would be blinded by his love and enthusiasm for the boy. On the other hand, Slughorn held high expectations for anyone in his club, and Regulus felt a pressure to keep the professor's level of regard he held him in high.

The restricted section. Surely here he would find a topic suitable for an impressive paper. One that was a rare subject for students to ever choose, something with edge and depth and an impressive sound. He'd received a note from Slughorn granting him permission, and now, as he moved the heavy rope out of his way, he realized every dusty book held promise.

Page after yellowed page. Ancient wizards, strange legends he'd never heard of until now. So far, he'd come across several topics of interest relating to potions, but nothing perfect. Until he opened a heavy book, tucked in a deep corner of a shelf and bound in leather so dark it nearly blended into the shadows. And he came across something whose name itself felt inherently twisted, as if speaking it would turn his tongue into the black one sickly etched onto his forearm. He furrowed his brow as he read the very short, vague description in the ancient book. This didn't relate to potions, but it was so much what Regulus was looking for in a topic. He flipped through the rest of the book, finding only the one brief mention; he would need more.

"Professor Slughorn, I found something interesting in the restricted section this evening."

Slughorn was admiring a glass bauble on his desk, his chin moving up and down. "Ah, ah, yes! Yes, did you find a topic for the essay like you were hoping for?"

"Well, possibly," said Regulus. He paused. "Professor, what exactly is a horcrux?"

The glass bauble slipped from Slughorn's right hand, being barely caught by his left. "Well, my boy, that is...that is _very_ dark magic indeed...and not exactly pertaining to potions," stumbled the professor.

"I realize it doesn't exactly pertain to the subject, but I want this essay to be about something rare, something different. Professor, all I could find of this magic was a brief mention in a single book. I'm curious, is all," said Regulus.

Slughorn sat down behind his desk, his eyebrows tilting almost sadly. "I know you're curious. Intelligent, is what you are. I'm just not sure you want to go around writing an essay on something such as...well, on something so dark."

"Suppose I don't write about it. I just want a better understanding than that vague book description could give me," said Regulus.

"You're not the first to ask me about horcruxes, you know," said Slughorn.

"Recently?" asked Regulus.

"Recently enough," said Slughorn. His fingers fidgeted along the edge of his desk. "Tom Riddle, you know."

Regulus felt his entire body still, as though every internal, automatic function had suddenly switched off. "The Dark Lord," he said.

Slughorn nodded. "Yes, I suppose that's what they're calling him these days."

"What did you tell him when he asked?"

"Well, I...I told him the truth," said Slughorn. "As, I suppose, I'm going to tell you." He folded his hands. "A horcrux… is an object in which a person has...concealed part of their soul. One takes a, a section of their soul and hides it within an object."

"For protection? From what I understood in the book's explanation, a horcrux prevents you from being able to die," said Regulus.

Slughorn nodded. His face then contorted, his brows furrowing. "That-that's enough, you really shouldn't be reading into these sort of things. This is too dark of stuff, Regulus."

Regulus opened his mouth to speak, faltering. "I just, I don't understand... _how_ it works, Professor. How are you supposed to split your soul?"

Slughorn hesitated, and his hands stilled. "There is a reason the topic of horcruxes is shrouded in such darkness, Regulus," he said. "To split one's soul, one has to kill. Killing tears apart the soul."

Regulus swallowed, pausing. Thinking. "Perhaps I'll find another essay topic, sir," he said.

Slughorn's shoulders slumped. "I think that would be a better idea," he said. "You know I respect your interest in education, but some things are better left in the restricted section."

Regulus watched the flames lick and flutter around each other in the common room's hearth. Horcruxes. Taking souls to tear apart your own to make you immortal. A sick, dark power. One inquired about by the Dark Lord himself, once a supposed curious boy.

It's nothing, thought Regulus. Just because Tom Riddle once asked about a type of magic doesn't mean he ended up using it. It's only natural that the Dark Lord should express an interest in dark magic from an early age.

And if it _was_ something, if he did split his soul - shouldn't that be good to Regulus? The leader of Regulus's cause would be immortal, infinitely strong.

Regulus smiled sadly down at his fingers running along the seam of the chair's arm; he needed to stop lying to himself. He knew; he knew the prospect of the Dark Lord being immortal meant death for the world. It meant a never ending shadow of black clouds looming over everything in every corner.

But it was nothing, surely nothing. He pulled his eyes from the fire; the fire popped.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who reads this! Review if you'd like; it's more appreciated than I can explain.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: I don't own anything you recognize. ALSO, thank you so much to everyone leaving such kind reviews. Writing truly is my dream and ideal career of choice, so to hear such wonderful encouragement is just priceless for me. It really, really, really means a lot! Now, on with the story!

"If there's one thing I'll miss when I leave Hogwarts next year, it'll be these eggs!" said Allen, happily chomping down on the fluffy yellow clumps hanging from his fork.

"Out of everything?" said Regulus distractedly, sitting beside the younger boy at the Slytherin table.

Allen swallowed part of his bite. "It's high up on my list."

The Great Hall was shrouded in pale morning light and the hum of chatter. The rays of sunlight were so crisp, so tangible. They fell down from the windows, great shafts of light, illuminating dust like sparks drifting down from the candles above. Endless greenery was framed like art in the glass. Ask any calendar and you would be told it was still winter; ask the world outside and you would be told it was spring.

"What are your plans today, Reg?" asked Allen before another bite of egg.

Regulus glanced down at him. "Uh, I haven't decided yet, I guess. I'm sure I could work on homework...I might take a walk. Why?"

"The others, they talk about you lately. When you're not around," said Allen slowly, quietly.

Regulus studied him. "What do they say?"

"They think you're acting weird. That you're always distant and going off on your own," said Allen. "And, well, Barty said...I don't know."

"No, what did Barty say?"

"He questions your loyalty, is all. To...well, you know who I mean."

Regulus smiled. "My loyalty? Just because I start taking more walks, becoming quieter, means I'm not loyal?" He laughed. "Oh, Barty, what a git." He took a swig from his glass.

Allen laughed nervously. "Yeah, what a git!"

Regulus patted Allen's shoulder. "I'm off then," he said, sliding off the bench.

"To where?" asked Allen.

Regulus turned, walking backwards with his hands in his pockets. "If you see Barty, you can tell him I went on a walk."

The lake was glittering almost blindingly. Students were congregated all along the shore, in the fields - it was the clearest day that had fallen on the weekend in months. Innocent, wild laughter fluttered across the water's surface, flitted through the breezy treetops as easily as the breeze itself. Regulus walked by the lake's edge under a thick canopy of leaves, a section etched out along a gentle slope. He kicked at a piece of gravel.

Damn that Barty. Damn that his suspicions were right.

He hadn't been inconspicuous enough. He hadn't wanted to be social with any of them ever since he first began to feel separate. Ever since he first questioned their cause, their purpose. Their relentless loyalty. Those thoughts alone had angered him, but speaking to Barty and the others would've made him feel even angrier.

He'd just have to fake it. Fake being unquestionably one of them. He'd have to ignore the way the other students perceived him - he'd dealt with it all these years with no problem, hadn't he?

But he knew why that hadn't bothered him before. Before, he hadn't realized the tiny flame of want inside him that longed to be one of the bystanders; an innocent Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff. Even a Slytherin, as long as he had no ties to the Dark Lord's followers. But now that he felt it, recognized that desire, the judgment of those he wanted to reach out to and be with was painful.

But it didn't matter. The pain of their judgment would be far better than the agony he would feel at the hands of the Dark Lord. It wasn't worth it to turn away from him, not even from Barty and the others. He had to stay in the group. He had to be one of them, for his own safety.

He heard a small voice in his head. _You can infiltrate them. Being one of them comes with knowledge. Knowledge the other side needs._ He felt his hands stiffen in his pockets, and kicked a piece of gravel into the lake. He clenched his teeth; he wanted the rock to smash harder into the water, not splash so unsatisfyingly.

Calm down, he told himself. He turned to a gathering of rocks a few steps from the water's edge, stepping up onto one. He heard a new voice now, from the bushes.

"It's too busy up there, I just want to put my feet in-," said the voice, before stopping abruptly. Cora emerged from the bushes, staring at Regulus standing above her on the rock. "Guys," she called, eyes still on Regulus. "Wait- wait a second." She turned back into the bushes, and he heard her steps continue up the slope. "Why don't you guys go back to where everyone else is, I'll just be a minute. Really, it's fine, I could tell you guys wanted to stay there," she said.

A few seconds later, and she emerged again. "Hi," she said.

"Hi," he said down to her. A smile pulled at the corners of his lips.

"I came to put my feet in the water," she said.

"I heard."

"I hope I'm not bothering you."

"On the contrary." He stepped down beside her. "Maybe I'll put my feet in, too."

Winter had found its home in the water; an icy chill burned at Cora's toes the moment she submerged them. An inky blackness encircled her ankles as she held onto the hem of her skirt.

"Cold?" asked Regulus, stepping into the water beside her, his pant legs rolled up. He winced, and nodded. "Yep, that's cold."

She laughed, then turned her gaze out across the lake. A flock of birds lifted up from the trees in the distance, ebbing like a melody against the blue sky. Swelling, shrinking; always in tune with each other, always acting as one. She watched them, the specks of black appearing like painted v's. "Regulus," she began, her voice suddenly quiet, sullen. "What are your plans after Hogwarts?"

He paused. "I've already shown you my arm."

She met his eyes. "So that's it then?" she said. "You won't strive for anything more?"

"I don't _have_ anything more."

She nodded. "If that's what you think."

"What d'you mean by that?" asked Regulus.

She looked troubled. "Well, Regulus, there's...there's a whole other side," she said. "I mean, you see, don't you? You see how serious this is. This war." She paused. "Sides are being chosen. You don't have to let yours be chosen for you."

"It's not that easy," said Regulus.

Cora paused. "I know," she said quietly. She looked back at the water. "I don't know why I brought it up." She chuckled breathily, changing the subject.

Regulus watched her watch the lake, and he smiled. "That's okay," he said. "It's nice, for me...to feel like there is someone outside of my own mind who gets it. You understand me, don't you?"

She met his gaze again. She nodded. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I do."

Once again, she was hit with the bizarrity of her situation: Standing beside Regulus Black, ankle deep in the lake, proclaiming her understanding of the inner mechanisms of his mind. Of _Regulus Black's_ mind. For a moment she let herself see him as she always had, as the hateful little Slytherin boy. But he was fading, and this new Regulus - intelligent, aware, and brooding Regulus - was coming more and more into focus.

A corner of his mouth lifted. She seemed to be glittering more than the lake; her curls blended into the darkness of the water behind her. Something grew inside him: a need to tell her something. _A horcrux… is an object in which a person has...concealed part of their soul. One takes a, a section of their soul and hides it within an object._ He could tell her everything he knew, and she would help him. She'd tell him it was nothing, that horcruxes were just some legend lost in the pages of a book in the restricted section. Or, she would understand. She would be smart, she'd investigate.

Or, she would tell the others. The Marauders. The legendary Order. And he would officially be aligned with them.

"My friends will be wondering where I am…" said Cora, glancing behind her.

Regulus straightened, pulled from his reverie. "Well, I could walk you back."

Cora splashed idly with one foot, smiling downwards. "I don't really want to go back." She laughed quietly.

Regulus stared at her.

"They just don't understand," she said. "Edmund and Adair. They don't take me seriously. They have no interest in aurors, or...or, well, you know. They're my best friends, but sometimes...sometimes they just don't seem like my people."

Regulus laughed. "Yes," he said. "I know what you mean." He smiled at her, the warmest smile he thought he'd probably ever given.

And she returned it. "You take the war seriously."

"I do," he said.

"You get it," she said, quieter.

"I do," he said.

"Do you think we can meet again? A planned sort of thing?"

"That sounds like a good idea," he said.

And meet up they did. Afternoons by the lake, evenings behind shelves in the library. Day after day, holding secret conversations in which all they did was simply talk. Simply bask in the feeling of being understood, of standing beside someone who felt the same conviction in their heart. At first the conversations were cautious, avoiding topics of serious depth. And slowly, with every word spoken, the caution crumbled, washing away like a tide pulling sand out to sea. Neither felt frightened of the other, or of the other's reaction to whatever was said. There was a growing comfort; a solid friendship. A trust.

The last evening before the two weeks of Easter holiday was a clear one: the sky was a pale blue, mixing with pink and fading into the lake. The air from atop the Astronomy Tower was pure and chilled by the breeze. Cora leaned her stomach into the railing, listening to the calm.

"You're my best friend, you know," said Regulus beside her.

A corner of her mouth lifted. Her eyelids fluttered. She kept her gaze on the lake. "I think you're mine, too."

Regulus laughed. "Still can't believe it."

"Oh, trust me. Neither can I."

"Cora, I'm just...I'm sorry that I can't be seen with you."

"It's for your own good. Your own safety."

"I know, I know it is. I just wish I didn't have to hide from something I'm part of. I wish I wasn't even...I don't know."

"You wish you weren't a part of them?" asked Cora.

Regulus hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah," he said. Something released within him; a lifted weight. "I can't associate myself with people who want you dead."

Cora looked down at her fingers as they grazed slowly along the railing. A triangle of pink light highlighted her cheek and forehead.

Regulus spoke clearly, deliberately now. "There is a still a part of me that feels the purity of the wizarding world must not be tainted; it must be preserved. But I just...Cora, there are two sides to me lately, and they're battling with each other."

"I understand," said Cora.

"I know you do," mumbled Regulus. "I was wondering if you might, um...mention me."

"Mention you?"

"To the Order."

Cora nearly audibly gasped. "But, Sirius…"

"I know. It's not plausible. It would be bad. Nevermind."

"No, no, Regulus...if you want to get involved, I can make it happen."

"I don't want to be involved. I can't," said Regulus firmly.

"It could be kept a secret," said Cora.

"Like a double agent," said Regulus.

"I could give you a code name for the Order. They wouldn't have to know it was you," said Cora. "I could mention you in letters, send details you provide about the Dark Lord's plans."

Regulus, angered at himself, felt tears clouding his eyesight. "I can't," he said.

Cora paused. "We could call you R.A.B. Just your initials. Swanky, isn't it?" said Cora, although her voice was already sad. She knew it wouldn't be happening.

He met her gaze. "R.A.B.," he said quietly, smiling. "Imagine that. Me, the mysterious R.A.B., infiltrating the Dark Lord's armies, delivering his secrets to the Order." He laughed wistfully, leaning over his folded hands on the rail.

"I know. It can't happen," said Cora, smiling in the same way.

"R.A.B.," repeated Regulus, looking out at the sun setting over the waters and green hills, its rays still touching the Astronomy Tower. "R.A.B."

He was safe here. Sure, he had to walk the halls with the other Slytherins, but it was school. Just school. But soon, he'd be thrown out in the real world, a world where the Dark Lord's presence was endless. A world where the mark on his arm wasn't just a sinister reminder of his future, of his loyalty, but was a true connection between him and the wizard he couldn't bring himself to worship any longer. A connection he couldn't break. There would be no escape for him out there, no home like Hogwarts.

It was a home. Grimmauld Place, despite its darkness and gloom, was still his childhood house - but so was Hogwarts. He looked out over the view from the Astronomy Tower: the rolling green hills, the bushy clouds billowing up against the darkening pink sky. The lake with its calm stripes of airbrushed reflections. He knew those grounds; he had since he was 11. There was a kindness about Hogwarts, a comfort that was inexplicable, but always present. A comfort that found its place in your chest when you walked down the stone halls, under the candles in the ceiling at meals, or at a safe distance from the Whomping Willow. This school was an old friend. And he would have to leave it behind in turn for a life permanently among the Death Eaters.

The breeze rustled through the willows and leaves nestled into the hills below. Birds dipped and glided against the sky; it was a moment of calm. Of peace. He looked at Cora: her eyes were narrowed against the breeze, her curls blown back from her skin. Her cheek looked so soft, so rosy. He wanted to reach out and touch it, to hold his palm against it and feel her lean into him. He looked away quickly; it was dangerous enough to be standing beside her, to be friends with her. To go in any deeper would be the end.

But for right now, in this moment of peace before the Easter holiday, he could be content. Soon, this familiarity, this calm, would be ripped from his life. His time at Hogwarts - his time of simplicity - was coming to an end. He looked back out at the hills, and he breathed.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: I don't own anything you recognize.

It was spring, the season of rebirth. Of new life. Cora had never felt so in tune with the meaning of the season. The world around her was new; she touched the fabric of her bed's blankets, and even they seemed like something from an old, far-off age, born anew into this dreamlike world. Dreamlike, but then again, she felt like she had just awoken into it, finally coming out of a lifelong sleep into her true reality. She looked behind her at her desk, where so long ago she had sat writing those pivotal letters. The chair was still slightly pushed out.

When would his next letter come during the break? They hadn't said anything about writing - but she was expecting something. A note with a single location on it, a place they both knew and could apparate to. A place where they could be with the one other person who had made them realize they had been wandering alone for too long. Stuck behind a wall, each on opposite sides. A wall with both sides made of the same brick.

She hadn't even mentioned Regulus to her parents. She knew how they would react; they would assume that the relationship was romantic, that she'd fallen in love. She would get red and her stomach would ache and her teeth would clench. She'd never liked discussing romance with her parents. She'd always been a child when she was around them, and the thought of mentioning to them any romantic feelings she had made her feel an annoyed sort of anger. Not that what was between her and Regulus _was_ necessarily romantic.

It was the second day of Easter holiday, and her parents were prying her away from her intense studying for the upcoming exams to attend a family picnic in the park. Her grandma had put it all together. She wanted to stay home; she _did_ need to study - but, also, her eyes were trained on her bedroom window in search of an owl. However, here she was, in a pair of overalls over a pale pink shirt, curls pushed back by a crowning braid, waiting for as long as she could before her parents called her down.

It was two minutes after their car pulled out of the drive that an owl dropped an envelope on the porch steps.

Regulus had written this letter as soon as he had awoken from his fitful night's sleep. In his scrawled cursive it read:

Have you been to Regent's Park in London? Meet me there at three o'clock this afternoon?

-Regulus

Cora fidgeted beside her grandma on the picnic blanket. It was two in the afternoon, and the family was just bringing out the pudding. There was a letter waiting for her at home, she knew it. She looked at the willow's tendrils swaying in slow motion across from her; they were telling her it was there, sitting idly on the front steps. Those words in ink sitting so idly in the breeze and the sounds of cars passing by her house, waiting for their meaning to flow forth once she could finally read them.

Regent's Park. Her dad had grown up in a flat two blocks from the park, so naturally he chose this location for their picnic as he had so chosen it since his boyhood. It was a drive into the city; a drive away from the letter waiting.

"School still going well, Cora?" asked her Uncle Bert, her grandma's brother, who was sat on a cushion across from her, a digestive biscuit in hand and crumbs in his beard.

She nodded, smiling without showing her teeth. Her fingers held loosely onto the end of her fork, which dragged idly across the whipped topping of the banoffee pie slice in her lap.

"I've ne'er seen y'eat a slice a'banoffee pie so slowly," said her grandma.

"I'm just full, really," said Cora.

Her grandma's eyes remained trained on the girl for several moments more before slowly pulling back to the conversation of the other adults.

The fingers of a breeze stroked the surface of the lake a few footsteps away from their blanket, sending light ripples expanding out across the water. The same winds urged the clouds across the sky, which trudged along slower than Cora's eyes could notice. Not that she was trying to notice - her eyes mostly glanced at her watch as subtly as possible. 2:34 p.m.

Regulus's feet dug into the grass. He knew where he had landed; he was in the northern region of Regent's Park. An area he knew, and had been several times before. His visits here with his family _had_ been pleasant memories, but now they left him feeling angry, worried. They brought up his feelings of doubt, of worry - the thought of his parents evoked the very conflict that haunted his every thoughts these days: choosing between his past loyalties to them, to their desires, or what Cora had shown him. The images of him walking down the path he had just landed by, Sirius to his left, were tainted by this constant, nagging worry. He emerged from the bushes, looked to his left and right, and walked onto the pavement. He slipped his hands into his pockets.

He pulled out his pocket watch. 2:46. He was early, but what if she was, too? He could use the extra time to search for her in the park, anyways. Where would she decide to apparate to? What was a familiar sight for her when she thought of Regent's Park? He saw the threads of a willow's leaves hanging down, tickling the grass below the tree. They swayed; he smiled. Somehow, the tree looked like her. Calming. Innate comfort.

There was a family sitting behind the willow's tendrils; he could only make out an old man working his way around the outside of some sort of biscuit, his mouth like a furry gerbil's whiskered snout. The breeze lifted the willow's leaves, revealing a girl sitting with her legs curled beneath her, and her hair a dark version of the willow itself. Cora.

He felt his heart lift like the wind had lifted the leaves. But she'd brought along the whole _family_ … he hadn't thought about her parents knowing who he was. He hadn't even considered it; they were just Regulus and Cora, with no outside connections. He paused, and then walked confidently up to the family on the blanket.

"Afternoon," he said, emerging from the willow's drapes.

Cora's parents, grandma, and great uncle stopped eating, staring up at the young man. Cora twisted around, her eyes widening. "Regulus!" she said.

He smiled nervously, suddenly feeling very, very wrong. "I-uh," he began.

She stood up quickly. "I'll be right back," she said to her family, nodding towards Regulus and hurrying down the path with him. When they were quite far away and hidden behind multiple areas of foliage, she stopped. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"Didn't you get my letter?" asked Regulus.

She furrowed her brow. "Letter?"

Regulus laughed. "Yes! I sent it this morning. The one asking you to meet me in Regent's Park at three this afternoon."

Cora shook her head. "Regulus, I never got your letter. I must've left before it arrived."

"Then how'd you know to be at Regent's Park?" he asked.

"I didn't, it was my dad's pick!" said Cora, laughing.

Regulus smiled, astonished. "Good choice on his part," he said. "I was wondering why you brought the whole family along."

Cora slapped his arm. "You've _embarrassed_ me!" she said, laughing lightly, although there was still a tinge of sincerity in her voice.

"Oh, come on, now," said Regulus. "I'm not embarrassing."

"Well, no, not inherently. But my parents will _assume,_ " said Cora.

"Assume?" repeated Regulus.

"You're a boy," said Cora.

"Thank you for the reminder," said Regulus.

Cora laughed again, putting her hands against her face in exasperation. "No, stop making me laugh!" she said. "I don't...I don't talk about guys or anything with my parents."

"But it's just me," said Regulus.

"But they don't _know that_ ," said Cora quietly, smiling.

"Do they not know who I am at all?" asked Regulus.

Cora chuckled exasperatedly again, this time at herself. "No."

"Well, I'll admit. My parents don't know about you, either," said Regulus.

"That's a bit different, though," said Cora. "My parents wouldn't...well, they wouldn't be as against you as your parents may be towards me...well, you know what I mean."

They met eyes and paused before both laughing. "This is getting dark," said Regulus, chuckling lightly still.

Cora coughed a last laugh, nodding.

"Y'know," began Regulus. "My parents are gone today visiting my cousins. You should come visit while they're away, just for a little bit."

"Really?" asked Cora.

"I just want to show you my humble abode, for some reason," said Regulus.

"Well, I'd like to see it," said Cora.

Her family was still sat on the blanket, though her grandma was practically breaking her back to see around the willow in search of Regulus and Cora. Cora came back up to them, nervous about what she would say.

"Who was that, dear?" asked her mom.

"Funny enough," began Cora, already sounding unnatural. "That's one of my friends from school. I never thought I'd run into him in the middle of London!" She paused, giving a laugh. "He was wondering if I could stay with him for the rest of the afternoon, to catch up."

Her parents exchanged a glance.

"Well, yes, I think that'd be alright," said her dad.

"How will you get home?" asked Uncle Bert.

"She'll manage jus' fine," said her grandma, giving Cora a knowing nod.

The process of getting into the front door 12 Grimmauld Place was certainly the most extensive Cora had ever seen.

"Mother?" Regulus's voice echoed at first into the darkness of the front hall as they peered in through the door, but then his words seemed to be absorbed into the thick shadows. He motioned to Cora to follow him, and they made their way down the black hall.

"It's nice!" said Cora, polite as she could be.

Regulus threw her a smirk. "It certainly fits the family surname."

Cora smiled smally, and they made their way up the steps. She took it all in: the ornate fixtures, the seemingly endless doorways and adjacent halls. The many rooms with memories untold. All in dark velvets, deep floral patterns hardly discernible in the shadows. This was his home, his world. This was the home that had shaped Regulus Black.

"Master Regulus," said a new voice.

Cora jumped. They'd been caught, and now she was trapped.

"It's alright," said Regulus. "It's the house elf."

A pale, shriveled elf emerged from behind the banister, his eyes narrowed by the weight of his sagging eyelids. "And you've brought a friend, I see." His voice was gnarled and low, seemingly evil. But Cora didn't want to see him as evil.

She smiled. "Hello," she said. "I'm Cora Danes."

"Master Danes…Danes…" said Kreacher, ruminating over the name. "I've not heard of the family."

Regulus went to speak, but Cora got there first. "Oh, well, you wouldn't have. We're not a wizarding family."

Kreacher shot Regulus a look of horror. "Master Regulus," he said, almost angrily. "You shouldn't."

Regulus was hurriedly searching for the words to say. "Don't worry, Kreacher. My parents don't have to know. You can't tell them."

"You're asking me to hide the fact that a muggleborn was traipsing about the Black family home?" asked Kreacher.

Regulus paused. "Kreacher," he said. "Please. I knew you'd be home, but I just...I wanted to show Cora around."

"Wanted to show her around…" muttered Kreacher.

"Kreacher," said Regulus again.

"Yes, Master Regulus," said Kreacher finally.

"Thank you," said Cora sincerely, watching the elf kindly.

And Kreacher felt her kind eyes upon him, and begrudgingly knew she was of a good heart.

A good soul.

The two moved past the house elf, continuing up into the house.

"I can tell that he likes you," said Cora. "He follows your orders for more than just being your house elf. You must be kind to him."

Regulus shrugged. "Sirius was...not so kind. But I've never seen a reason to treat Kreacher badly in any way."

Cora nodded, smiling to herself as she watched him walk in front of her.

"And this is...my room," said Regulus, swinging open a door.

Dark was the first word that came to Cora's mind. She thought of her own room, with its decorations and colors and blankets draped over cushions. Not that this room was barren; on the contrary, it was beautifully trimmed and adorned with ostentatious embellishments. However, nothing about these embellishments was homey and cozy. Everything was black and fancy and gothic. She felt an intimidating sadness come over her.

"Do you ever open the curtains?" she said quietly, nodding towards the window.

Regulus shrugged. "Would you like me to?" he asked.

"No, no, that's alright," said Cora. She stepped further into the room. "Your home is very nice, Reg."

He sat down on the bed. "It's home," he said. "Not Hogwarts, but, it's home."

Cora smiled. "Well, nothing's quite like Hogwarts," she said.

"I'm scared to leave it," said Regulus, smiling and looking down at his hand resting on his knee.

"Oh, I know," said Cora. "Although...well, sometimes I'm scared to be there."

Regulus looked at her. "What?" he asked. "It's the safest place you can be in these times."

"It's just that, as of late, well...I've just felt targeted. As a muggleborn. The other Slytherins, you know, they're...they can be ruthless," she said.

Regulus nodded. "Yes," he said. "They can be. You shouldn't worry, though. There are plenty of muggleborns at Hogwarts, and the Slytherins would never truly hurt you. Not in Hogwarts. You're safe."

Cora chuckled. "I suppose it would be dumb of them to attempt anything with Dumbledore a few rooms over."

Regulus smiled. "Even though, how much intelligence can we really attribute them?" They descended into laughter.

"Would you have done this a year ago? Even six months ago?" asked Cora, her laughter dying down.

"Do what? Sit on my bed with Cora Danes? No," he said, still laughing.

She smiled. "No, no, I mean...talk about the other Slytherins like that. About your friends," she said.

Regulus's smile waned, and he coughed. "No, probably not. Not out loud, anyways."

"Well," said Cora quietly. "You've changed."

"You're right," said Regulus firmly. He met her eyes.

"Do your friends see it?"

"Yes, I think they do. A bit," said Regulus.

The two fell into a moment of silence while Cora observed her surroundings. She glanced down at her watch. "I'm not sure when I should head back," she said. "It's four o'clock."

Instinctively, Regulus pulled out his pocket watch.

"You should get that fixed," said Cora over his shoulder.

"What do you mean?" he asked, looking at her.

"The hands are pointing to 12:12," laughed Cora casually.

Regulus's head snapped back to the watch. She was right. 12:12.

 _The hands will point to 12:12 when you view what you desire most._

"Reg?" asked Cora. He'd fallen into a stunned silence, staring down at the pocket watch's face.

He coughed, pulling his face back towards her. "Hm? Yeah, I should get it fixed," he said quickly. He sat up straighter beside her.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He looked back at her. "Yeah," he said quickly. "Of course." Her eyes watched him concernedly; they were so deeply colored, so endless and full of emotion and intelligence. Her skin so soft and pink; her entire countenance the picture of gentle kindness. Her hair framed it all in that mass of black curls. He would do anything for her. He felt a pulling in his chest, a tugging in his throat. It was like he wanted to scream as loudly as he could. He felt like he knew her entirely; he was sitting beside the one part of his soul that he'd been split from his whole life. And she knew him more than he knew himself. His hand gripped the pocket watch, its cold shell growing hot in his palm.

He loved her, with every thought, word, and piece of his soul.

"I guess I really should be getting home," said Cora.

Regulus was staring at her. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Yes, you should get back to your family."

She hated the thought of leaving him in this dark, shadowy house all alone. But this was his home; he would be fine. "Thank you, Regulus," she said. "I loved seeing you, and seeing your humble abode." She said these last words with a smile, her tongue peeking between her teeth.

He smiled and nodded. "Come visit whenever you like," he said. He shut his eyes briefly. "Actually, no, don't-don't do that. My parents…"

She laughed. "I know. I know."

Of course she knew, thought Regulus. She always knew.


	14. Chapter 14

Exams. Were they worse than the Dark Lord himself? Possibly. Cora felt as prepared as she possibly could, and yet she _still_ worried constantly. It was her last year, she was taking her N.E.W.T.'s, and she had to do well.

"Getting that last bit of studying in?" said a voice from behind her.

She turned from her spot in one of the archways of the courtyard. Regulus stood there, smiling. "I've got about twenty minutes to spare, might as well use them," she said.

"You're right, that'd be a good decision," said Regulus.

"One which you won't be making?" asked Cora.

"Correct," said Regulus.

"Are you not concerned in the slightest about your N.E.W.T.'s?" she asked.

"Well, I've got most of my future planned out, you see," he said.

Cora smiled, albeit sadly, nodding. "You should-," she began. She was interrupted by Regulus suddenly dodging to the side behind the wall. "What?" she asked. She looked out into the courtyard: A group of Slytherins was headed their way. "Go!" she whispered to Regulus.

He looked down at her, her legs curled up in front of her, her eyes staring intently up at him. A breeze lifted a tendril of black hair from her shoulder, and he knew that he didn't want to hide her. He didn't want to seem ashamed of their friendship. But if the Slytherins found out, what good could come from it aside from his own personal, internal honor? He peered out from behind the arch, and with relief realized he didn't need to make any decision of staying or going; the Slytherins had gone away.

"All clear," said Cora.

"Need any help studying?" he asked, although he knew she definitely needed no academic assistance.

But she smiled, and pulled her legs closer to her to make room on the arch. "Take a seat."

He obliged, sighing as he plopped down and leaned against the stone. He took one of the books sat on her lap, ignoring the sting of his fingertip as its microscopic top layers of skin barely touched the thin layer of air hovering above her leg. (He couldn't imagine what it would feel like to hold her, kiss her, if even microscopic contact sent shivers and sparks through his nerves.)

Cora watched him as his pupils moved back and forth as he silently read line after line, searching for something to quiz her over. She still struggled to believe any of this was real. She still sometimes had overwhelming waves of awe when she looked at him, when she took in the details of his face and his irises and the minute lines etched onto his knuckles. The kindness in his face when he looked at her was all she needed to see for the rest of her life, she thought.

He quizzed her for nearly fifteen minutes, and she, naturally, answered everything quickly and correctly, sometimes before he even finished his sentence. They laughed, forgetting where they were and who they were and any problems at all in the world.

Barty was watching from across the courtyard, listening to their laughter, the entire time.

"He's been with that _mudblood_ ," hissed Barty, standing before the other Slytherins in their common room. "I saw them together, sitting in an arch, laughing and talking...it was sickening."

As the boy paced, the flames from the fireplace crackled, their tongues engorged, lifting with vicious heat, with each of his quick, angered breaths.

"Surely it wasn't Reg," said Jungston from one of the couches.

"Don't be foolish. It was him," snarled Barty. "We've all noticed a distinct difference in his behavior lately. Something within him has changed. I have a feeling that includes his _loyalty_. And _she_ is the reason."

"But Regulus is a _Black_!" said Allen, as if no one had thought of this, what was to him revolutionary, thought.

"Oh, we've all seen how much that name means anymore," said Barty. "Sirius must have tainted what righteousness was still left in his branch of the family tree."

The Slytherins were quiet for a moment, most of them angry, but some, like Allen, staring at the floor in quiet disbelief and concern. Moonlight was beginning to move across the floor towards the couches, its rigid beams coming closer and closer towards Barty, who still stood. The light, had it been able to reach him, surely would've been diffused in a hiss at his feet, smoking back up into the air, suffocated by his air of darkness.

"What should we do, then?" asked Lucinda Talkalot.

"Surely he could still be saved," said Allen.

There was a beat of quiet.

"There's only one way," said Barty. He paused. "He won't stop going to her unless he _can_ 't go to her."

Jungston laughed. "The blood of a mudblood - now that's fun to spill."

"But how?" asked Lucinda. "You can't do anything in Hogwarts."

Barty picked up a book from the table and hurled it at the stone wall. "I DON'T GIVE A BLOODY DAMN ABOUT THIS SCHOOL!" he screamed. Lucinda winced.

"Barty, Barty, calm it," said Jungston.

"We can leave whenever we want. We can _do_ whatever we want. And Dumbledore," Barty chuckled. "He thinks he makes this place invincible. He has no _clue_ what's going on within his precious walls. He thinks the threat is contained from the outside. He doesn't know that it's getting ready to break out."

The Slytherins laughed and cheered. Barty picked up his glass from beside where the book once sat, raising it up in the air. "To the blood of a mudblood!"

"To the blood of a mudblood!" they repeated.

"May our brother be saved yet," he said stoically before leaning his head back and draining the glass.

Something had still not left Regulus's mind. Something had been sitting there, tucked away, fermenting in the folds of his cortex. Sending a constant hum through each of his thoughts; an incessant underlying tone.

Horcruxes.

It was nothing, he told himself over and over again. Nothing at all. Yes, Tom Riddle had asked about them. But so did he, and he was innocent enough.

But he couldn't tell himself that forever. He couldn't ignore the hum - some hums get louder in dreams.

His body was still in his bed, sprawled beneath green coverings. The room was quiet, his eyes were closed, his breathing peaceful. But behind his eyelids, the hum was screaming. He was running, running to something he knew he needed to reach, but couldn't remember. He was surrounded by tall hedges, which reached up into a gray sky filled with mist. Their tops were indiscernible; maybe there were no tops. His sneakers slipped on muddy patches of grass as he ran wildly. Every sound was thudding in his ears: his heartbeat, his frantic breaths - even the mist seemed to emit an unabating hiss. He turned corner after corner; he was lost, and yet it was as though a rope was attached to his sternum, pulling him towards something growing ever closer.

One last corner and he skidded to a stop. Rain began pelting him, the drops so large they stung. Through blurred, watery vision, he saw it. He saw the horrific scene he had been led to.

A dark robed figure stood, malevolent and shrouded in a sickening air, in the middle of the muddy clearing. Behind him, hundreds of naked bodies lay on top of each other in a massed heap. Arms hung out, limp. Dirt caked the pale, dead skin. Several blank eyes stared out at nothing from amongst the bodies.

Each pale form became part of the whole pile; indiscernible. But Regulus blinked, and began to gag. A body was sprawled out, limp like a dead animal with eyes wide open, with its curly black hair becoming matted by dirt and rain. Cora.

He gagged uncontrollably until finally he threw up into the mud. He fell to his knees as he heaved, his knees squidging into the grass. He was sobbing, heaving, and maybe screaming - he wasn't sure.

The robed figure turned towards him, and in his gaze seemed to be a malign shadow that passed over the clearing, cutting through the rain.

Regulus looked up, his chest still lifting and falling, tears and rain mixing with mud on his cheeks.

And suddenly, the robed figure became two. Regulus blinked, questioning his vision, before the figure became three. Then four. Then five. Then six. Then seven. All of them began approaching him, gliding across the grass like part of the mist.

Regulus threw himself up from his mattress. He felt his blanket, listened to the quiet of the dormitory. Yes, this was real. And so were, he now knew, the horcruxes. The image of Cora's limp body flashed in his mind; his heart ached. The Dark Lord was going to kill endless amounts of people - people who were like Cora to someone else. He couldn't lose his Cora; he couldn't let someone else lose _their_ Cora. The horcruxes were the only things in the way. He knew that now, with a newfound and terrifying certainty

Falling asleep again was useless. Day came slowly. His fingers flew to dress him. His strides were long and twitchy with anxiety. He knew Cora would be on her way to Charms, so that was where he headed. To Hell with his own classes.

He stood against the wall just outside the classroom door, watching the passing crowd. Her curls stood out against the blurred faces as she approached, blessedly, alone. Her eyes latched onto his immediately, confusion seeping into them as she got closer.

"I need to talk to you," said Regulus, standing straight.

"About what?" asked Cora in a low voice, averting her gaze, trying to keep up their usual act of not knowing each other when in public.

Regulus glanced around. "Not here," he said. "Meet me by Wilfred the Wistful after Charms."

Cora nodded, noting the gravity in his voice. She continued into her classroom, but she already knew she wouldn't be able to focus on any of today's lessons. Her brow stayed furrowed for the entire period.

Regulus waited by Wilfred the Wistful's statue, wondering what else those stone eyes had seen. Skipping class wasn't a common activity of his, and certainly not Slug Club worthy. But of what importance was class anymore, compared to this?

After what seemed like days, students began filtering past him. Class had been let out. He peered over the heads until he saw the curls.

"What is it?" asked Cora the moment she was near him.

"Wait until they pass by," said Regulus. Once the hall was clear, he responded to her quizzical look. "Listen, I've found something."

"What sort of something?"

"I first found it in a book in the restricted section, for Slughorn's essay," said Regulus. "A piece of dark magic."

"How dark?" asked Cora.

"Really dark," said Regulus. He slipped his hands in his pockets and stepped closer to her. "Cora, you've never heard of a horcrux, have you?"

She shook her head.

"It's...it's an object that can...contain a part of your soul. Preserve it. Protect it," said Regulus.

"What makes it so dark?" asked Cora.

"It is created by killing," said Regulus. "It splits your soul."

Cora paused, still furrowing her brow. "Are you…thinking of doing this or something?"

Regulus gave as much of a laugh as he could. "No, no," he said. "I went and asked Slughorn about it to see if I could do my essay on such a thing. He seemed almost...scared, when I asked him. He told me it was too dark, that I shouldn't be looking into things like that. And he told me...well, Cora, he told me that the Dark Lord asked him the very same thing back when he was a student here."

Cora's lips parted, just barely. Her eyebrows became unfurrowed. "And you said a horcrux...contains a part of your soul?"

Regulus nodded. "It would prevent you from being killed. To die, the horcrux would have to be destroyed first."

Cora took a breath. "But just because...he...asked about it doesn't mean he actually created a horcrux."

"No, and that's exactly what I thought," he said. "But...I couldn't get the thought out of my mind. And then last night…" He saw her dead body again.

"What happened last night?" she asked gently, concernedly.

"I had a dream. A nightmare, really. It was him, and then he split into two. He kept multiplying. And he was in front of this pile...this pile of dead people. Bodies," said Regulus slowly. "Cora, it _felt_ like a message. Like my brain yelling at me to realize what I know."

Cora fell quiet, breathing slowly. She nodded. "So...if there is a war...he can't be killed."

"Not unless his horcrux is, or horcruxes are, destroyed," said Regulus.

Cora closed her eyes. "How is anyone supposed to know what these objects are?" she asked.

"I don't know," said Regulus. "But...someone close to him might have a better chance at finding out."

She looked up at him with sad eyes, and he looked down at her with his own.

"I know this is all...well, terrifying, but...Cora, no matter what happens, you need to just know that I l-," began Regulus. But he was cut off by a yell from the down the corridor.

"OY MUDBLOOD!" the voice shouted.

Regulus leaned away from Cora. "Barty," he muttered, fear seeping into his eyes.

A group of Slytherins was approaching. Cora took a step back.

"GET AWAY FROM HIM," shouted Barty. "INCARCEROUS!"

Thin cords flew from his wand at Cora. She fell to the ground, wriggling, bound and gagged.

"What are you doing?" yelled Regulus.

"Saving you from this FILTH," said Jungston. "You'll end up with tainted meat if you keep with her."

"Barty's seen you together, Reg," said Lucinda. "And we've _all_ seen how you've been different."

"Do you even bloody know what is at stake here?" asked Barty. "You cohorting with some mudblood puts your _loyalty_ in question. And that puts your _life_ in question."

"When you chose to be a Death Eater, you chose a life of servitude," said Jungston. "Y'better be up for it, Black. Don't turn out like your brother, who's a dead man walkin'."

"You don't understand," said Regulus. "I don't know what you mean by how I've been _different_ , but I just, she was helping me study. That's _all_."

"Likely story," said Lucinda.

"It's true, Lucinda," said Regulus seriously. "I know it was thick of me to ask a mudblood for help. But she makes such high marks, I _had_ to." He was surprised at how easily _mudblood_ still slipped off his tongue. "I want my academics to reflect my general level of effort. You all know that's always been important to me. It's something I thought I could offer the Dark Lord."

Barty still scowled, but stepped back and forth restlessly. His stupid mind was struggling to take it all in, to consider the story's validity. "That true, mudblood?"

Cora, on the ground, did her best to nod. Her eyes met with Regulus; they both knew. This had to be done.

"I'm sorry," said Regulus. "I _know_ it was absolutely idiotic. I needed her help. I won't use her anymore."

"Yeah, that's right you won't," said Jungston. "Just be glad we didn't go straight to the Dark Lord. As of right now, he still has trust in you."

Regulus sighed in loud relief. "Good, thank you, truly," he said. "I want to remain a trusted follower. Close to him." His eyes glanced over Cora's again.

"We were gonna kill the mudblood," said Barty. He looked up at Regulus.

Regulus struggled to contain his rage, his terror. He felt like he was holding in every cough he had ever stifled.

"For good measure," said Lucinda. "Do _something_ to her."

"Why don't you do the honors, Regulus?" said Jungston. The other Slytherins agreed.

Regulus gave a laugh. "Alright, alright," he said. "What should it be, then?"

"Cruciatus," said Barty. "If we're not gonna kill her, do the next best thing."

Regulus's laugh weakened. "Oh, c'mon. We don't have to do that. It was me who was wrong, she was just helping."

"She deserves it just for being in this school," said Jungston. "Do it."

"Unless you're lying to us," said Lucinda. "Prove that you're not."

Regulus chuckled again. "Calm down, Talkalot," he said. He pulled out his wand. He pointed it down at the helpless, bound body of Cora. His sweet, sweet Cora. He felt the eyes of the Slytherins watching him, but all he could see were hers. They bore into him, full of seriousness. They said, "Do it. You have to." They didn't beg; they commanded.

And so he did. The word fell sloppily, quickly, from his mouth. " _Crucio_." He watched as she began to writhe wildly on the floor, her screams muffled by the gag.

Cora Danes. A person with so much meaning, such depth to her soul. A heart full of the most genuine compassion he had ever seen in a person. A mind with a brilliance immeasurable. A person who seemed so much more than a person, and here she was, left to squirm in excruciating pain while others watched, like a tortured animal. Dehumanized. It was the most disgusting, horrifying injustice Regulus had ever been forced to witness, been forced to cause. And yet perhaps it was just as wrong that he had to hold in his tears and smile.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. Apologies for the inexcusably long wait!

Two weeks had passed since the incident in the hall. Regulus and Cora had hardly seen each other, let alone spoken to one another. Regulus was letting himself back into his old routine, his old group of friends. For the wellbeing of potentially the world, he had to ignore Cora, to ignore his heart. It had been the worst two weeks of his life.

Cora, too, could do nothing but let Regulus do what he needed. She had dug through endless piles of books in the library in search of anything on horcruxes, but nothing came to her. She thought about writing to someone in the Order. But for some reason, truly unknown to even herself, she kept her knowledge of horcruxes private. She could easily write to Lupin and try to explain, but what would she say? How would she explain that their only substantial evidence was a question asked years ago, and a current death eater's dream? She needed to wait until Regulus could get more information. Surely by the summer, when she was fully involved with the Order, he would have something. They could all work together; maybe even Regulus could leave the Dark Lord's army by then. They could be together.

The last word he had spoken to her was "Crucio." She brushed aside the memory. It had been a necessary action, necessary for the betterment of the wizarding world. She tried her hardest not to dwell on the image of pain searing into his eyes as he watched her on the ground; that was the worst thing to remember.

It was Saturday, and she would be seeing him tonight. Slughorn had arranged a Slug Club dinner; the last meeting of the year, and the last ever for the seventh year members. Cora sat on her bed in her dormitory, her legs crossed beneath a blush skirt of tulle and lace. Her hair was pulled up high, with delicate, little curls framing her face. Two weeks since Regulus had truly looked at her.

"Oh, you look gorgeous, Cora," said Adair, coming into the dormitory. "Stunning."

Cora smiled. "Thank you, Adair."

"Your last Slug Club meeting, hm?" said the friend. "Are you sad?"

"A bit," said Cora, nodding. "I've always been a little embarrassed to go down to that office, like I'm part of Slughorn's 'selected few,' if you will...but now that it's ending...well, I just hope I've appreciated it enough all this time."

Adair smiled, sitting on the bed beside Cora. "You just enjoy yourself tonight. And smuggle some food back for Edmund and me, eh?"

Cora laughed. "Anything for you two," she said. She wrapped her arm around her friend, leaning her head on the girl's shoulder. The dormitory was quiet; it looked exactly as it had the first night they had walked in, seven years ago. The lights were dim and warm. Adair's breath rose and fell so familiarly. How was life so loud, and yet when you focused in on the very moment you were sitting in, it was so quiet? Cora felt herself smiling sadly, savoring everything about where she was. She closed her eyes against Adair's shoulder.

Slughorn's office was covered in string lights, candles, curtains, and lanterns. Regulus sat at the familiar circular table as the other students filtered in, each putting on their biggest smiles as they greeted the beaming professor.

"Welcome, welcome!" he said to each one, shaking their hands. "Come in, take a seat, we'll be eating shortly. Ah, hullo!"

With every "Hullo!" from Slughorn, Regulus's eyes flew to the doorway in search of curls. After many moments of false hope, he looked up at another of Slughorn's greetings, and his heart expanded and lifted, making him dizzy.

She was a light. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen; nothing could ever hope to compare to her. Two weeks and he knew now he had been starving. She smiled at the room; she smiled at Slughorn the same as she smiled at the youngest, most insignificant members. What grace, what incredible sweetness. What perfection. How had those two weeks been survivable without a glance at her face?

Her eyes swept over him, and an instant wave of reassurance and knowing passed onto his heart. How did she understand him so deeply? He sat in awe.

She sat across the table from him. He was the first thing her mind perceived when she walked in, his form sitting in his chair and watching her. His familiar outline. He was the essence of comfort and safety. The embodiment of familiarity. She had missed him so much.

As the group talked over dinner, Regulus and Cora seemed to be as connected as ever. Their gazes held each other's, their souls talked on a secret level underlying the main conversations surrounding them.

"Well, for many of you, this is your last meeting with me," said Professor Slughorn sadly, swirling his glass with a halfhearted grip. "You've each been such a joy to watch grow and succeed. You can all bet I will be keeping my eyes on you as you continue to be such wonders out in the real world."

Everyone smiled. They knew the professor saw their successes as partially something of his own, as though he had claimed these students, but, regardless, he was still sweet. He cared for them, and they each cared for him dearly. But despite this, Cora wanted dinner to hurry along. She just wanted to speak to Regulus.

After dessert, music was put on, and the guests all dispersed about the room. Conversation, laughter, and jazz filled the air; Cora stood off to the side by a sweeping curtain, waiting to meet Regulus's gaze.

He feigned polite laughter with a small group of others as he made his way across the room, hands in pockets. He saw her, met her eyes. He came and stood a casual distance from her, turning his gaze out towards the room. "Lovely night," he said.

"Yes, that pudding was, mm, just heavenly," she said. She glanced at him, and her eyes filled with pleading seriousness. "Let's find somewhere," she said quietly.

They slipped out at staggered times, and he followed the sight of her skirt through the halls to a remote turreted stairwell, where all was quiet but the muffled music from Slughorn's office. She was ahead of him, but she stopped at the stairs, turning quickly as he walked towards her, and fell into his arms.

"Regulus," she whispered into his chest.

His hands ran along her bare shoulders, savoring the sudden feeling of holding her. He buried his nose into her hair. "I know," he said. He grabbed onto her tighter. "Cora, Cora, I'm so sorry for what happened."

Cora clenched her eyes. "Don't," she said. "It had to happen. We both know that; I couldn't be mad at you for that. I'm relieved you did it. You had to. It was brave."

They stood in each other's arms, quiet, for several moments. Then Regulus said, "I've missed you. More than I've ever missed anyone."

"I think it's because we need each other," said Cora from his chest. She almost laughed at the words.

Regulus smiled, lifting his head from hers. With the release of its weight, she lifted her face to look up at him.

"I do need you," he said. He felt a release with the words. Everything inside him was welling up, and with every blink of her eyes, he felt a deeper need to hold her tighter. His arms still wrapped around her waist. Muffled laughter echoed from down the hall. They were in their own world.

"What will it be like once we're gone from here?" asked Cora quietly. "Two weeks, that's nothing compared to...well, how long will we not see each other? Years at a time?"

"It depends," said Regulus. "It depends on if I let that happen." He felt another swell of emotion. "Y'know, I won't let it happen. I'm finding out as much as I can from the Dark Lord, and then I'm coming back to you. I'm not leaving you, not just to stay close to him. Not for long. I can't, I won't." His arms wrapped tighter, his hands gripping the fabric of her dress, pressing into the skin of her bare back. "Cora, I love you. Oh, I love you."

Her lips parted, her eyes filled with water, her arms pulled on his neck. A desperate laugh came from her. "I love you," she said, her voice nearly choked.

And he pulled her in, and she pulled him in, and their lips met with urgency, with the swelling of everything they'd felt for what seemed like forever. Regulus held his mouth on hers as he moved them both to the staircase, sat down on a step with her in his arms, and kept kissing the girl he loved more than his own life.

The end of June came with only what glances could safely be shared between them. It came, too, with the bitter goodbye to Hogwarts, to home.

It was gone. Her years at Hogwarts were all in the past, with none yet to be experienced. Every single year was finished. Her dormitory bed would never be hers again. No more desks, or quills, or professors. No more quidditch games. No more of Hogwarts.

The fields she'd watched pass by so many times were passing by one last time. She leaned her forehead against the train window.

King's Cross. She stood with Adair and Edmund, feeling a sickness rise in her stomach. The glorious life she'd been looking forward to all this time - it was here. And all she felt was an intense, desperate need to be back at Hogwarts. Waves of panic came over her. Desperation. She needed to be back now. But she couldn't. It was gone, all over. Nothing in her power could bring it back.

"Hey, I love you guys," said Adair from beside her.

Tears were in all of their eyes. Cora shook her head and grabbed them both, pulling them into a group hug.

"Write, both of you," said Edmund. He was blubbering uncontrollably. "We are going to keep in touch. We have to."

"Oh, of course we will, Edmund," said Cora, smiling. She held onto his shoulder as he cried.

And they parted, each going off with their parents. Off into the real world.

In the crowd, she'd looked for Regulus. He was nowhere to be seen, and she knew if he had been nearby, his face would have stood out in the flood. Their goodbye would have to remain at the night of Slughorn's party, the best night she had ever had. It wasn't a final goodbye, she knew that for certain. He was her life, and that was what she had in front of her after Hogwarts.

Regulus was on the other end of the station. He glanced around for Cora to no avail. He briefly searched for his parents, but didn't try nearly as hard. He looked beside him to see Allen still standing there, tears pouring down his cheeks. The crowd was thick at King's Cross, but Regulus stopped to talk to the boy. He bent down.

"Allen, hey, hey," he said gently. "Listen. I need you to hear me."

Allen nodded and sniffed, straightening his shoulders.

Regulus smiled. "You have been so brave. Truly. And I want you to know something. I want you to know that we don't always have to be leaders to do courageous things. Just because someone older and bigger than you is preaching a belief...that doesn't mean you have to follow them. True bravery is found in following what you know is right. And, Allen, I know you know what's right. You have good in you. Don't let them squash it out of you."

Allen took a shaky inhale, and he nodded, his eyes full of sincere obedience and respect. He would never let go of those words.

Regulus left the station alone. His haven was gone. All that awaited him was 12 Grimmauld Place. But he would use it, he would use all the darkness that surrounded him; he would gather every ounce of information he could before he left and ran to Cora. And stayed with her.

"A special lunch is in order to celebrate your last day," said Cora's mom in the back of the cab.

"Mum, I really don't mind if we just go home," said Cora.

"No! You need to celebrate. Keep your chin up, dear. There's so much waiting out there for you aside from Hogwarts," said her dad from the other side of the seat.

Cora sighed and gave a small smile. She'd let them take her out. Why not.

The dining chair's seat was cold against her legs. She watched the other customers at the tables in the restaurant - they smiled, talked, laughed. None of them had any idea about the world they were missing. None of them knew about her and Regulus. Her life, her entire world, was a total secret. Regulus was hers alone.

She ordered a turkey and provolone sandwich with bean sprouts and tomato. It was such a stark difference from her usual Hogwarts meals, but she tried to enjoy it. It wasn't as if she hadn't been in the muggle world before; that was far from the truth. But today the muggle world felt different; it felt more permanent.

"We're thinking of traveling this summer," said her mom.

"Traveling where?" asked Cora through a mouthful of bean sprouts.

Her mom gave her a playfully scolding look. "We're not sure. We wanted you to have some input."

I can't go anywhere, not now, thought Cora. But she swallowed her food and said, "Well, I don't have much of an opinion."

Her dad smiled. "You, without an opinion?"

She returned a look that she knew was frighteningly similar to the one her mother had given her at her mouthful of sprouts.

"We thought about Egypt," said her mom. "Or Morocco."

"Or somewhere in the states," said her dad.

"What if we, uh, took off from traveling this summer?" asked Cora.

Her mom set her fork down on her plate. "What?" she asked. "You don't want to take a holiday anywhere?"

Cora cleared her throat. "Well, it's just that I've got to start looking into jobs, you know. An auror can be a hard career to go into. I've had loads of help from professors, but I'd still like to get into the job market as soon as possible."

Both of her parents looked dejected and hesitant.

"Well," said her mom. "I suppose that's true."

"We can take a break from holidays this summer if that's what you'd like," said her dad.

"No, I don't - well, you two don't have to stay home. I'm perfectly fine with staying here if you two want to go off somewhere. That's completely fine with me," said Cora, feeling bad.

Her parents both laughed.

"I don't think we'd do that," said her mom.

Cora shrugged. "Well, you should! I'd be fine. I've got a lot to do this summer." She took the final bite of her sandwich and thought she saw Regulus sitting at a table by the door. It wasn't him.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize.

Bundled up sheets and his duvet pressed into Regulus's back. He stared up at the ceiling above his bed; bleak, black, dull. No laughter echoed up from the floors below him. Not even a voice. Silence, an occasional creaking, filled 12 Grimmauld Place, and he watched the minute etchings in the ceiling above him sway as his vision blurred. He blinked to clear away the tears and the burning from staring too long. He closed his eyes, and they seemed to fold in on themselves, indulging in the overwhelming comfort.

It had been nearly three weeks since the ending of his final year at Hogwarts. There'd been meetings with the Death Eaters, but he was still only an early member. He didn't yet have the privileges of seniority; it may take a while to gather any information useful to him and Cora. To the Order. He turned over on his side. He still could hardly believe he was going to -eventually- be a member of the Order of the Phoenix. All his life, a Death Eater was the only possible role he thought he could play, but oh, how a year had changed him.

It was 9:30 at night, and he was restless. He still wore his day clothes, his shoes were sitting beside his bed. Although it sounded like the house was empty, he knew his parents were somewhere down below - but they almost certainly wouldn't come up to his room to check on him. He was, essentially, free to go. He sat up and straightened his shirt, slipped on his shoes, and turned off his lamp. It was an impulsive decision; he was gone in a vortex of shadow and light.

The first thing he saw was the starlit sky. A clear night - only thin wisps of smoky

clouds were occasionally lazily painted across a constellation. The distant, heavy sounds of waves rolling and crashing against rocks, bubbling and reaching out across smooth expanses of sand echoed from the bottom of the cliffsides. Green grass looked nearly grey in the night, but it was all familiar. He'd been here with Cora so long ago on Christmas Eve, her in a winter hat. He could see the pink wool now.

He walked slowly, listening to the water in constant movement below, the foamy tendrils always crashing, gliding, dancing with each other. His black hair was lifted by a breeze that smelled like salt and dirt. Would he ever end up in a simple life? Able to walk these cliffsides with Cora, with nothing else on their minds and a happy home to return to? He could almost feel the ink of the snake's tongue on his forearm and knew that having no worries would be too much to ask.

As if waking him up from a dream, a figure appeared in the distance, and he instinctively gripped his wand. The figure had long hair; it floated in the breeze behind the silhouette of a body. Regulus drew closer - could be a muggle, could be a Death Eater here to kill him after discovering the boy's intentions and new-found loyalties. The stars offered dim illumination to the cliff. He walked carefully. The figure still did not turn towards him. He decided to call out, and his voice came out louder than expected. "Hello?"

The figure turned with a flicker of its silhouette. "Regulus?"

Regulus stopped. The voice was instantly recognizable, as natural as the sounds of the waves. "Cora?" he called out across the grassy slope.

The figure hurried closer now, and her features became clear in the star and moonlight. Cora, hair loose and free from the pink hat. "Regulus, what on earth, I...I don't understand, I-," she said, her voice full of shock, confusion, and disbelieving happiness.

Regulus smiled uncontrollably, brow furrowed in similar emotion. He ran closer to her to close the final distance between them, took her shoulders and wrapped his arms around them, and kissed her soundly. He felt her arms wrap around his neck as she fell into the kiss.

"I missed you," he said as they parted and his mouth fell into her hair.

"I missed you, too," said Cora with a sigh, her voice muffled by his chest. "How are you here?"

"It was the first place I thought of when I decided to get away for a bit," he replied, still resting his head against the side of hers.

"Me too," she said with the same muffled and surprised voice.

"I love you," he said suddenly, pulling her into him as much as he could, wishing he could envelop her and stay like that.

She made a noise from within his embrace. "I love _you_ ," she replied. She lifted her head and looked at his face, then laughed. "How far we've come, Regulus."

He smiled down at her. "How far we've come."

She let her hands come around to his chest, her fingers gently resting on his sternum. "Have you heard any...information? Anything?"

He tilted his head and grimaced. "Ah, Cora, can't we just stand here and pretend nothing else exists?"

She smiled gently and nodded. "Maybe nothing else does," she said. "It wouldn't be hard to believe if we just stood here and lost ourselves to this clear night around us. There are no buildings, no lights aside from the stars. If we focused, it could seem that there is no world surrounding us, and that ocean goes on forever, and these grassy slopes never stop sloping. Just us, standing here."

Regulus closed his eyes. "That's all I wish," he said.

Cora stared up at the boy and his eyelids, and she thought he looked more natural, familiar, than her own reflection.

"I love you," he said, like the words were a sweet, breath of air he'd been longing for. He opened his eyes.

Cora laughed. "You already said that," she said.

He shook his head, smiling. "I don't care," he said. "It's all I can even think." He was still holding her, her fingers still stroking his chest.

"You know I love you, too," she said, gripping his shirt now. She reached her head up and kissed him again. His head dipped in rhythm with hers.

"I can't believe we showed up at the same place, the same time," he said as they parted.

"Me neither," said Cora through a smile, a laugh. Her fingers stroked his cheek. "Merlin, Regulus, I could kiss you forever, I think."

Regulus couldn't swallow the overwhelming swells of emotion that continuously washed over him like the waves down below. "Let's just do that, then." He gripped her torso even stronger now, feeling a rush of something forceful, something urgent. "I mean it, let's really pretend nothing else exists. Just stay here forever." He didn't want to let her back into the world; he had her here now. How could he possibly let her go again?

Cora smiled. "I want that more than I can put into words," she said, her voice quieting. "But you know we have duties. We've grown into people with purposes. Crucial purposes. We can't abandon them."

Regulus leaned his forehead against hers, breathing in the sweet smell of her skin blocking off the scent of salt. "I don't know," he said. "I don't know if all of that purpose is worth risking you. Risking this. Don't we just feel...fragile?" He felt that if he released his grip on her waist, she would drift off on the breeze and evaporate into the misty clouds he'd noticed when he first arrived here.

She shook her head. "We don't feel fragile to me," she said. "You're the most certain thing I've ever found." One hand held onto his shirt, the other still on his cheek. Her forehead pressed into his. They stood like that for longer than either of them knew.

His forearm began to burn again behind her back. Yes, he told himself. I know I can't ignore what is beyond these cliffsides. But the burning persisted, and he pulled his arm away, pulled back from Cora, and saw that the snake's tongue on his skin was writhing and pulsating.

Cora's eyes widened in horror. "What is that?" she asked.

"I have to go," said Regulus, tears creeping up in his eyes.

She tilted her head and nodded. Her arms wrapped around his neck again, pulling him into a tight hug.

He hugged her back, pulling her into him and breathing in as much of her as he could, like she was air he would need to save until he could come up again. "I love you," he said.

She nodded against his shoulder. "I love you," she said. They parted, he backed away, their eyes never glanced away from each other.

His arm writhed. He stared at her, her sneakers in the blades of grass. Her curls in the breeze. Her chest rising and falling.

"Regulus," she said. "Be careful."

He was gone in a vortex of shadow and light.

His room was dark, as he'd left it. His mark still burned and twisted on his skin; he opened his door and stepped into the hall. The study. He was pulled towards the study.

Even with lights on, the house seemed darker, as if the night was seeping in and even the air had a shadow. The study came into view and he entered, stepping into a shadow that he felt more than he saw.

Voldemort sat in an armchair, his black robes covering most of the chair itself, giving the effect that he was hovering in the middle of the room. He looked at Regulus with eyes that seemed like tongues of cold fire, reaching out to penetrate him with icy mercilessness. Uneffably evil.

"Regulus, my boy," he said, his voice with the same effect as his eyes. "I've come to ask a favor of you."

Regulus bowed his head quickly; he'd forgotten at first. "My lord," he said. "I am your servant."

"You are," said Voldemort. "What I need is your house elf."

"M-my house elf, my lord?"

"Kreacher is his name, yes?" His words were slow, frightening.

Regulus nodded.

"I need to borrow him," said Voldemort.

Regulus almost asked, "What for?" He stopped himself, nodding enthusiastically instead. "Consider him yours, my lord."

"Fetch him," said Voldemort.

The house elf was sent off with the Dark Lord, despite Regulus truly reluctant to do so. But there were bigger things to worry about, like how to truly end the man - if you could call him that - that had just sat in Regulus's study. He returned to his room, pleased at least that he had increased his reputation in Voldemort's eyes. The favor was probably a test, a way to see if the boy was worthy of the Dark Lord's trust. Gaining that trust would mean gaining access to information the Order needed. Things were going to plan.

He shut his door and laid back down on his bed, considering going back to the cliffs. But surely Cora was gone by now, back to her own house outside of London with her sweet parents and her most certainly sweet room. He closed his eyes in the darkness and pictured the way her shirt felt against his arms, the gentle curve of her upper lip as it dipped under his. Sleep came over him like the waves, and he dreamt of the same thoughts that sent him into slumber.


End file.
